


Take a Hit

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Punk Louis, Skater Zayn, american football liam, football niall, it hurts, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis is a skater, lourry stylinson, skater, skater louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 41,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “Hey, alright, so I like to get concussions from the ground, you like them from sweaty men in tight pants.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Do you think you have a concussion?” Harry asks, completely ignoring the part where Louis insulted him. That was not meant to be over looked, thank you very much.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“No.” Louis answers, definitely not pouting because Harry didn't so much as crack an offended smile at his joke. Louis lives for offending people.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>(And making Harry smile.) </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

 

 

 

Well it's junior year (again) and Louis' mom said he had to do _some_ sort of extracurricular or he'd _never_ get accepted to college, what with failing out last year. (Technically it wasn't his fault he got 'sick' a lot. It was, however, his fault that when he was 'sick' he was seen smoking and skating around town.) And last year (and all the years previous) he'd been too chicken to try out for drama. And last year (and all the years previous) the soccer team was _god-awful_ and Louis' slightly-above-mediocre soccer skills were not enough to even bother getting into that mess of dickheads, so that was a no. Everything else was either waaaaay out of his physical ability range, or social suicide. Everyone remembers the fall of prospective young student Louis Tomlinson to useless stoner/skater Louis Tomlinson. He stopped caring about things like popularity and just general _participating in society_ at the beginning of sophomore year, but a little part of him still nagged now and again. That little part of him was also aided by his mother, who was pushing for sports, of which all were ruled out, except one.

That left football. But as the towel boy. Hey, it counts on paper as a football player, so why not?

Louis shakes his head to himself, an expression of “why the _fuck_ am I doing this again?” And just on cue, his phone vibrates with a text from his mom reminding him to see the coach after school, and that she'd pick him up at 2:30. Right, her. 

Despite being a self proclaimed asshole (even though he really isn't at _all_ ) Louis is a total momma's boy and would do anything to make his mom happy. He sighs again and knocks on the door.

“Whaddya want?” Coach Murphy barks. Louis can smell the marijuana around the older man, and it calms him. Common ground.

“Can I talk to you about being towel boy?” Louis asks, grimacing at the request like he's asking someone if he can have sex with their mother, expecting a nice slap across the face and foot in the ass.

“Come in the office.” Coach sighs, waving him in. Louis ducks into the room, and then follows Coach through another door to the actual office. Did Coach Murphy actually _need_ a miniature lobby? No one wants to do sports at this school, all they ever did was lose.

Louis shakes his hand in his hair to tousle it as he walks in the room, and when he looks up again his stomach drops.

_Harry._

 

_**Freshman year** _

 

_“Dude, it's our first high school party!” Louis' friend, Zayn, grins excitedly._

_“Z, man, we've been to five others and it's May.” Louis rolls his eyes._

_“Yeah, but something_ feels _different about this one, you know?” Zayn presses and Louis just shrugs, taking a swig of whatever the hell had ended up in his cup. It was alcohol and that's all he wanted. Exams were really taking a toll on him, he'd always gotten good grades since pre-school to eighth grade, but this year has just been going on a downward spiral._

_Louis notices Zayn eying the girl he likes, Perrie, and whacks his shoulder._

_“Dude, just talk to her! Offer her a drink, a dance, a nice fuck...” Louis jokes._

_Zayn hits him back, but less playfully than when Louis did it, “Don't talk about her like that!” He says, his usual jocular attitude slipping out of his eyes._

_“Dude, alright, I'm sorry.” Louis raises his arms in a surrender, “But seriously, I sit behind both of you in US history, she's into you. S'got 'Mrs. Malik' doodled on her binder and everything.”_

_Zayn's smile reappears, “Really?”_

_“Would I lie to you?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Well, I'm not this time, go talk to her.” Louis assured him, clapping his back. Zayn nodded and took a deep breath and walked toward Perrie and her friend, Jade. Somewhere in the fifteen foot journey, Zayn lost his balls and walks straight past them and into the bathroom, as if that had been his intention all along. Louis laughs out loud, but the party is pretty noisy and no one gives him any weird looks._

_Louis wanders to the next room over, where some juniors have set up beer pong. He leans again the couch to watch, thinking that this has_ got _to be the most idiotic game he's ever seen._

_“Hey, freshie, wanna give it a go?” One of them asks, as one of them just threw up in a potted plant and now the other guy on his team needs a teammate. Louis shrugs and fixes his hair walking over._

_“You be partners with Harry.” One guy directs him, and Louis' stomach flips. Harry?_ The _Harry? The Harry that is better than him in every way? The Harry that Louis has aspired to be since, well,_ forever _?_

_Louis looks up, and sure enough there is curly haired, dimpled, Harry._

_Louis has never been more determined not to fuck up, maybe he can beat Harry in something._

_But as the game goes on, he and Harry are laughing together (and getting completely shit-faced together,_ god _are they bad at beer pong) the determination dwindles down to nothing more than friendly competition. Which_ still _doesn't make sense, considering they're teammates._

 _Everything is a blur until, somehow, he and Harry are upstairs. Louis remembers a vague, giddy conversation about peeing off the balcony, but now Harry's lips are around his cock and_ oh my **god** _is it better than peeing off the balcony. Louis hopes he's not peeing in Harry's mouth, and a hysterical giggle bubbles to his lips at the thought. But the combination of the cool night air and sheer_ pleasure _rocketing through Louis is a little sobering, and he realizes what exactly is happening. Well, he knew before, but now he might remember it tomorrow._

 _“Fuck,_ Harry _.” Harry's name falls from Louis lips in a whimper. Both hands tangle in Harry's curls and his head drops back. And then Harry swallows and Louis_ loses _it. His least-entangled hand flies to his mouth to muffle his moans. His legs shake and his vision is blurring. His first orgasm not by his own hand, and Harry is taking it all down his throat._

_Louis thinks he might collapse when Harry stands and kisses him, but Harry's arms shift to wrap tight around Louis' middle, holding him up. Louis can taste himself on Harry's tongue, but he really doesn't care._

_He does care if someone were to walk onto the balcony though. It would be a little bit more than absolutely mortifying: Louis with his half-hard dick just hanging out, pants around his ankles, tongue shoved down Harry's throat._

_In everything Louis has seen, usually the blowjob-er is the submissive one and the blowjob-ee is dominant, but something is very, very different about what just happened. As details of the events leading up to what just happened slip back into Louis' mind, he realizes he will probably have bruises on his hips from Harry's thumbs, and that what just happened was entirely Harry's idea. Not that Louis minded. Not at all._

_Louis pulls away from Harry for a moment to catch his breath._

_“You're not going to tell anyone about that, right?” The question is phrased as a question but said like a command._

 

 

_**Now** _

 

Louis had figured, as Harry walked away and Louis buttoned his jeans, that maybe Harry would text him, or pull him aside at school sometime to discuss exactly _what_ had happened. Weeks went by without so much as a glimpse of eye contact from him before Louis finally gave up.

Now, here they are, over two years later, and they haven't spoke a word since.

Louis watches Harry's knuckles turn white and his throat constrict. He tries very hard not to think about his throat too much.

“Louis, you can just sit down while I finish my conversation with Mr. Styles.” Coach says, lowering himself with difficulty into his rolly chair.

“So, Harry, I'm offering the position of quarterback to you.”

“Me, Coach?” Harry asks. His voice is higher than usual, and Louis wonders if it's out of surprise of being asked to be quarterback or if it's him. Ninety-eight percent of him hopes it's because he's in the room.

Louis steals a glance at Harry's face, and he _knows_ by the way Harry shifts that he can see him out of the corner of his eye. He's changed quite a bit since freshman year. He's not the same kinda-sorta chubby cheeked, bright eyed boy who gave Louis head on the balcony. Oh no, if Harry's lips were to even stray an _inch_ downward from their normal height, Louis might come from the anticipation. Harry has grown into an exceedingly attractive eighteen year old. He has _every_ girl in the school wrapped around his pinky finger, and from the rumors, his dick. Harry's profile is absolute perfection. His jaw is something that was probably sculpted from marble, and his nose is long and straight. His eyelashes are long and curl up, and then rest against his cheekbones when he looks down. And those lips. Those goddamn lips that Louis hadn't gone a _single day_ with out thinking about since May 15th of his freshman year.

Louis has to wrench his gaze away and look down at his thumbs in his lap. 

“Mr. Tomlinson?” Coach Murphy says, and Louis looks up startled. He sees Harry is leaving the room and his heart sinks a little. What did he think was going to happen? That Harry would apologize for everything right then and there in front of the football coach? Likely.

“Yes?”

“Football practice is right after school at two, to four-thirty. It's a pretty self explanatory job. Don't fuck it up like Harrison.”

Louis guesses that because he's a football coach he can swear at kids. Louis doesn't really give a rat's ass. Fuck is his favorite insult, adjective, and verb. He nods, and remains seated. Unsure if Coach was going to add anything.

“That was a dismissal.”

“Oh, right.” Louis says, a little bit flustered and wondering if he would be able to catch up to Harry in the hallway. He doubted it, Harry's legs were far too long to be humanly possible. He closes the door to Coach's office and smiles. _Wheels._

Louis pulls his skateboard from where it sticks out of his backpack. He puts the board on the ground and kicks off down the hallway. He's probably going to get in trouble for this, it's only 2:15, it's highly unlikely that all the teachers have left yet. But if they decide he's being a nuisance (which they usually do) Louis can just out roll them.

But just as he's about to slide down the railing on the middle of his board, he stops short.

What would he _possibly_ say to Harry if he caught up with him. _Hi I don't know if you remember me but you swallowed my fucking ejaculate in freshman year and then never spoke to me._

_Hi oh fancy meeting you here why didn't you talk to me._

_Hi you have a really talented mouth I've thought about it everyday for the past two years._

_Hi you make me deeply question my sexuality on a regular basis I'd really like it if you'd suck my dick again._

_Hi why are you an asshole and why did you ignore me and why did you kiss me like you liked me when you didn't at all?_


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, just opening that pretty mouth of yours like you so love to do?” Louis' words were meant to sound malicious and spiteful, but as they pass in the air between them it sounds more sensual than anything. That pretty, pretty mouth.  
> “You're the one who fucking came down my throat!” Harry shouts, reaching his breaking point.  
> “Yeah? And you're the one who swallowed it.” Louis retorts, and now he's not just teasing. He's mad.

 

A small smile curls on Louis’ face. If he can’t talk to Harry, he can show off.

  
Part of his brain knows he’s being ridiculous and all he really wants is for Harry to want _him_ like Louis wanted _Harry_ all that time, but the other, maybe less rational part, doesn’t give a fuck.

  
Louis backs up a bit and gets a rolling start before jumping with the board onto the railing. The screeching sound is exhilarating, and very attention grabbing. At the end of the rail, he lands perfectly balanced, bending his knees on impact and rolling down the hallway, which Harry has now stopped in the middle of, watching.  
Louis pretends he doesn’t notice Harry, when honestly there’s _very_ little else he’s thinking about. When he passes Harry, he starts to do tricks that have no relevance to his plans of travel. Oh well, he has fifteen minutes to kill before his mom gets here. She doesn’t like it when he boards home, says its too _dangerous_. Even just _thinking_ it makes him want to roll his eyes. She doesn’t seem to understand the fact that Louis is the best skateboarder in town and there’s _no_ way in hell that he’d end up in the path of a car, or truck. Another downside of being driven home- no smoking on the way.

  
Louis stops the board before he slams into the door, and he hears that Harry’s footsteps have picked up again. Louis pushes through the heavy glass doors and tries to calm his breathing. As far as he knows, Harry is a shit driver and wasn’t able to pass his drivers test all six times he took it, so unless he has some other means of transport, there might be a few minutes of awkward silence waiting for their parents.

  
Unless Louis doesn’t make it silent.

  
Louis settles down on the short concrete walls used as seating and tries not to flinch when the door opens again and Harry comes out. He sits across the pathway, as far away from Louis as he can get. The sun lights in his dark hair, and Louis wonders how that’s even possible. Louis takes a deep breath, words of encouragement and doubt flowing through his mind simultaneously.

  
“So… Quarterback.” Louis drawls, the side encouraging him to be an asshole and put Harry through a _fraction_ of the hell Louis went through winning over. Harry jumps at the sound of his voice and panic flashes across his face, just slow enough for Louis to recognize it, but Harry covers it with his usual: casual unconcernedness.

  
“Yup.” Harry pops the ‘p’, and Louis has to wrench his gaze from those pink lips.

  
“That sounds… Physical.” He actually has to keep the smirk from his face when he watches Harry's uncomfortable reaction to the word. He's practically _squirming._

“Yeah. Tackling and stuff.” Harry mumbles, running a hand through his curls. Louis squeezes his fist, remembering what the strands felt like between his fingers.

“Mm, yeah, might get a bit hot under all those men. Oh, and don't hurt yourself, you don't want to _blow it._ ” Louis' thoughts are _rolling_ with laughter on their metaphysical floor, two gay puns in one shot. Louis' on a fucking _roll_.

Harry opens his mouth to say something and then closes it just as quickly.

“What was that?” Louis asks, blatantly teasing the boy. _God,_ he could do this all day. Maybe everyday for _two years._

Some distant part of his brain wonders if he's right in being this fucking bitter, it's just like a one night stand. But it was _so_ different. It was with Harry, a _boy_. That deserves some acknowledgment and maybe a little bit of closure on whether the _hell_ Louis was gay or not- because he was eighteen and damn, shouldn't he have figured it out by now?

“I didn't say anything.” Harry says.

“Oh, just opening that pretty mouth of yours like you _so_ love to do?” Louis' words were meant to sound malicious and spiteful, but as they pass in the air between them it sounds more sensual than anything. _That pretty, pretty mouth._

“You're the one who fucking came down my throat!” Harry shouts, reaching his breaking point.

“Yeah? And you're the one who _swallowed it._ ” Louis retorts, and now he's not just teasing. He's _mad._ Harry has no fucking _right_ to blame him. For one, he was fucking shitfaced drunk and hey- to a dick, a wet hole is a wet hole, it's not like he controls when he gets fucking _erections._ But Harry sure as hell controls when he sucks on a cock or not!

“I'm surprised you're not fucking pregnant, you're a pussy.” Louis spits, forcing all the venom and anger that built up after those two years of _confusion_ into his words. Harry is silent, and even though his face I a twisted mask of anger and something else, there is humor dancing in his eyes. Because _damn_ that was witty, and if it wasn't directed at him he'd love to laugh.

A car pulls up next to them and Louis recognizes it as his mom's. He walks to the car and opens the door, slinging his bag off his shoulder and ducking into the vehicle.

“Hi mom.” He says, his voice only trembling a little, and he could blame it on the twisting of his torso as he buckles.

“Hi sweetie, aren't you going to say goodbye to your friend?” She asks, gesturing to Harry who is now looking at his hands in his lap. Louis rolls down the window, “Bye Haz! See you at practice tomorrow!” It's said in the cheeriest of voices, and Louis gives himself a mental pat on the back. Damn, maybe he really should try out for the play.

 

When he gets home he calls Zayn, though he's not really quite sure what he's gonna say. He couldn't tell him about Harry, when he went back downstairs to the party after that night, Zayn's tongue was down Perrie's throat and he wasn't sure he wanted to even tell him, until there was more to tell. Obviously, there never was and so Louis never told him.

“So I got towel boy.” Louis says as a greeting.

“Dude, that's great, what's your position and jersey number?”

“Um... bench and I don't get one? Towel boy, remember?”

“No, dude, oh god you didn't know? Towel boy is an honorary position. It's not real. You still gotta like suit up or whatever and do drills and tackle people just you don't play in the game unless they're really desperate. Towel boy is the kid who sucks.” Zayn is laughing at him.

“Fuck.” Louis spits. Just what he needs. _Honestly_. Zayn is still laughing anf Louis hangs up. What a load of help he was.

_Fuck._

So far, the second edition of junior year is going a bit worse than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so last chapter I said 3 kudos until the next chapter, and I woke up to 8, and here we are, not even 24 hours later with 20 kudos, 2 bookmarks, and 300+ hits!!! That's crazy just wowee kazowee thank you lots!  
> so, I'm not putting a kudos limit thing on this one because I'm just gonna update when I feel like it.  
> Please read my other works while you wait? If you want :)


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he thinks it, his hand travels down to his hip bone, and his finger tip traces the familiar skin. Obviously, the bruises are long gone now, but he remembers where they were, and what they looked like, and how much they hurt when he pressed on them, but he did it anyway because it always got him hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many run on sentences. So many.

 

 

 

Really, _honestly_ , Lou, stop. Just fucking _stop_. This is fucking _ridiculous_. Louis throws his phone onto the carpet like it wronged him. Really he just wanted to throw something. Anything. Like a chunk of sharp ice at Harry's face. Or a football at Harry's groin. Or rocks at Harry's window (and even as he thinks this, another layer of thought wonders whether he means to break the glass or in the romance-novel-type way.) Or his head back as Harry takes him in his mouth... (That second layer of thought is now nodding to itself and muttering 'romance novel'.) 

 

Louis turns into his pillow and lets out a groan into the fabric. Why, why, why, _why?_ He turns his head as it's quite difficult to breathe when your face is smashed into a pillow and he stares at his door. His head won't shut _up._

 

Seeing Harry again (not that he hadn't seen him in the halls and every so often they'd have a class together) but being in such close proximity. _Talking_ to him. All Louis wants is closure, an explanation, and he's just _that_ much closer to it.

 

There's a knock on his door.

 

“What?” He says, not moving from his limp position. The door opens and Lottie pokes her head in.

 

“Hey.” She says.

 

“Hi?” Louis raises an eyebrow, but keeps his face pressed into the pillow.

 

Louis did tell one person. Once. He's not quite sure why he told his _sister_ of all people. He's not sure that he even wants her to _know_ about blowjobs. Ever. Ever _ever._ But last year, she had just turned 16 a few weeks prior, Louis came home feeling particularly dejected and confused about himself and he just told all to her. She was so understanding Louis almost cried. It's not like he came out though, he's not even sure he's gay.

 

Lottie closes the door behind her, said, “Mom said you looked a little upset and she wants to know what happened.”

 

“She can't know.” Louis replies simply. He does sit up, though, and rummages through his bedside drawer to find a cigarette and a light.

 

“You know you're going to kill yourself with those things.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

 

“I'd kill myself without them.” He counters, and immediately regrets it when he sees the worry flash across her face. “Joking.” He adds, but he can tell she's still not sure. 

 

Why the _fuck_ would Louis kill himself? He's got a best friend and weed and cigarettes and a skateboard. What more could he want?

 

Then again, looking at it from Lottie's eyes: repeating junior year, stoner, loser, no girlfriend- just a big mass of confusion that's sat in his chest for years. 

 

Maybe Louis would kill himself, if he were him. Which doesn't make sense at all, but, whatever.

 

“Why can't she know, she's your _mother_.” Lottie crosses her arms. Louis gives her a pointed look. “Oh.” She says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Um, well, he's quarterback of the football team, of which I am now towel boy.” Louis says, then takes a drag from the cigarette- just the words lighting anxiety in his lungs and tightening them.

 

“So you're below him in more ways than one.” Lottie sniggers and Louis coughs.

 

“I was standing and still my little sister, still inappropriate for you to talk about sex. ”

 

“I'm sixteen and a half!” She rolls her eyes.

 

“And that justifies it?” He retorts.

 

“I'm just saying I'm not _completely_ inno-” She starts, but Louis cuts her off by blocking his ears and talking loudly, “I DO NOT NEED TO HEAR THAT I DO NOT NEED TO HEAR THAT I DO NOT NEED TO HEAR THAT.”

 

She stops and rolls her eyes again. Someday she's gonna get stuck like that.

 

“So what else happened?” She asks. Louis gives her a rundown of the conversation and doesn't laugh _nearly_ enough at the jokes he makes, but of course she's lived with him her entire life and has grown a resistance to his sense of humor.

 

She wrinkles her nose when he mentions what Harry said about coming down his throat, and Louis feels his cheeks flush, it had to be said.

 

“Soo, what are you going to do?” She asks. Louis shrugs. How was he supposed to know? Like he ran his own life. If _only_. 

 

“Dinner!” His mom calls from downstairs and for now, the subject of what _actually_ is going to happen is waved away.

 

 

 

Louis is back in his room now, and some distant part of his mind reminds him that he still has to get his Spanish syllabus signed, and another part reminds him he can just forge the signature. It is two weeks over due, but the teacher is pretty lenient. Louis wonders if _anyone_ taking that class can _actually_ speak Spanish, because he can't. Hola and adios and cajones being the only three words he knows. Hello, goodbye, and balls.

 

Well if _that_ isn't his life in a nutshell.

 

But it's not, it's _not_ , because Louis is, like, 94% sure he's straight. Right? Maybe 80%. Yeah. 80% sounds good. So yeah hello goodbye balls does not run his life. He needs to learn the word for vagina and then yeah maybe it'll count. He thinks. He needs to stop doing that. It's really quite annoying, especially when there's these two layers of thinking contradicting each other and one wants to think about Lacey Collins and what she looks like naked and then the other is reminding him what Harry's tongue felt like, and his thumbs digging into his hips, and how every so often Louis still traces the places where those purple marks had been. 

 

As he thinks it, his hand travels down to his hip bone, and his finger tip traces the familiar skin. Obviously, the bruises are long gone now, but he remembers where they were, and what they looked like, and how much they _hurt_ when he pressed on them, but he did it anyway because it always got him hard. 

 

Louis gives in to something he didn't even know he was fighting with and starts rubbing himself through his boxers, and then he takes the boxers off and strokes himself after spitting into his hand, because any form of lubricant he usually uses is either across the room or in the bathroom and he's really just too fucking _lazy_ and _horny_ to get up and find one of them. 

 

He makes it as quick as he can, so the only thought of Harry leaks into his consciousness when he comes into a sock. His teeth dig into his fist to keep himself from groaning- and as he balls up the sock and tosses it into his hamper he's already falling asleep and he lets the thought wander into his completely blank mind until his dream is just the words floating around on a black background. He wakes up with it still in his head at 3:09 AM and he thinks, _yes_. Yes. He would have groaned Harry's name had he let himself.

 

 

 

6:45 rolls around and so does Louis- right off his bed. It happens every so often when the twins somehow manage to have a conjoined nightmare- that or one can't sleep without the other- and climb into his bed. His first thought is that he's really glad he pulled up his boxers before falling unconscious, and how the hell did he not fall out of bed before? Two little girls and one average sized teenage male, all with a tendency to sleep kick, walk, talk, or all of the above in one full-sized (no, not even queen even though his room _totally_ could have fit one) bed? It's quite the miracle.

 

His alarm is going to go off in two minutes, Louis doesn't believe in getting up at a normal time people set their alarms for, so his is at 6:47. He turns it off in advance and then straightens the duvet over the twins. Phoebe blinks open one eye but Louis read once (when was the last time Louis _read_?) that for the first three seconds of being awake, you don't remember anything. Her eyelid shuts again before three seconds is up and he's quite sure she was never even awake.

 

He kisses both their foreheads before shuffling off to the shower. 

 

 

 

When his mom asks how school was, Louis generally answers with 'good' or 'alright' even though there probably could have been a shooting and he wouldn't even know. He honestly just floats around all day- only coming to when his stomach flips with a wave of nausea when he realizes _oh god locker room. '_ Styles' and 'Tomlinson' are only one letter apart, but hopefully there will be at least one person between them. Coach Murphy is quite fond of coaching girls' volleyball, marijuana, and alphabetizing things. When he doesn't have anything to do, he can be found in the office organizing things for the secretaries. 

 

And now, with that fucking god _awful_ realization, Louis is completely conscious for last block and he's pissed off about it. Like are you fucking kidding me, a class he tunes in for and it's _health_? God, _no_.

 

But what's done is done, and it looks like he's decided to be alive for a particularly _excruciating_ class because suddenly there's a banana and a condom on his desk and all he can think is _holy shit holy shit holy shit._ He thinks that shouldn't only the girls be getting these and the guys should be getting, I don't know, bras to unclasp? But then he realizes that girls aren't the one with penises to put condoms on, so he tears open the package with maybe a little too much fluency, as the girl next to him is fumbling with hers, and rolls it onto the banana.

 

He's been around. A few girls here and there, only did the same girl twice once though- and boy was that a mistake. She _called_ him the next day, and Louis rejected the call on the second ring.

 

“Now, this isn't in the curriculum,” Mr. Barton starts, “well the condom thing is but wht I'm about to discuss isn't, but I think it should be as it's becoming more of an issue- well not an issue perse but a rising... thing.” Mr. Barton is sweating like a pig.

 

“Many young boys and girls reach a certain time in which they have a large amount of confusion about- about their sexuality.” The sentence ends in such a way that Louis can hear the thought behind Mr. Barton's eyes of- _it's out_.

 

Louis tries not to realize that his breath has hitched in his throat but trying not to realize something generally makes you realize it more. He let's it out shakily and the girl next to him, who has just finally torn the condom package open and torn the condom in the process, looks at him briefly without turning her head.

 

“Some of these boys and girls want to experiment- but then don't know how to properly and things could be injured. If you consider yourself homophobic please get up and leave the classroom now if you will be uncomfortable in hearing the following lesson.

 

A few chairs squeak and Louis wants to launch his desk at all of their genitals so they can never reproduce and make more of their _filthy_ people and then he looks to see who they are so he knows who's cars to key and he sees _Harry_ standing and- and. And, what? There are no hyperboles strong enough, no exaggeration nearly profound or devastating enough for what he. What he- he can't finish the sentence. There are no words for this rage, no light in his eyes. He's going blind oh my god he can't _see_ he's so fucking _mad_ what the _fuck_ and then- and then Harry blows his nose, throws the tissue away and sits back down.

 

Louis thinks he might throw up. Emotions aren't meant to spike and drop that quickly.

 

His knuckles are white and he has to pry his fingers from his desk, and again the girl next to him watches.

 

And then, Mr. Barton does probably the worst thing he could ever do _ever_.

 

He starts telling the class, actually just the boys, how one would have gay sex.

 


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest to god writing this fic is my favorite thing in the world.

 

All the boys get a bit flustered when Mr. Barton- also quite flustered and now sitting down with his desk to hide him- explains lesbian sex. Louis can easily persuade himself that he's half hard at the thought of two girls naked together, not the idea of putting his dick in a boy's asshole. It's quite hard to persuade yourself something, because you know you're lying to yourself.

But Louis is _not_ gay. He's pretty sure at least. So, yeah. There. Two girls making out would be hot, alright? Alright.

He wonders if the girls are hot and bothered. It's not fair that they don't have practically a flashing beacon saying “I AM HORNY”, it's really quite unjust. But, Louis supposes, in the grand scheme of things boys have it pretty easy. At least he doesn't have to worry about getting pregnant.

That second stream of thoughts now taunts him for not worrying about getting someone else pregnant, as he implied he'd have penises in him.

Louis is beginning to _really_ fucking hate that second stream of thought. 

The bell rings and Louis wonders if high school students have ever moved faster to get out of a room. The three kids who left before the discussion are sitting on the floor next to the door, and Louis has to fight the urge to kick their teeth in, one by one, wisdom teeth and all. 

He keeps walking, quickly as to distance himself between them and all the pain he wants to cause them when he hears a yelled, “What the fuck?” He turns around and sees Harry holding the one boy of the three up by his shirt, his fist raised. Harry wouldn't hit girls, no matter how awful they were.

“Did you just call us 'fucking fags' for sitting in a fucking classroom like we're supposed to learning about something that is completely fucking natural?”

“Yeah, I did.” the kid says defiantly, though to be honest he's not in a position to do so. Literally. He's toes aren't touching the floor. “Are you gay or something?”

“So what if I am?” Harry snarls, raising his fist higher. “Breaking your fucking nose would feel the same!”

“Are you gay, Styles? That might put a damper on your career, eh?” The kid taunts. Louis feels like he should stop Harry as his fist shoots forward straight into the guy's face. But who is he to go to Harry's rescue? Though, technically it's the bastard he's punching's rescue. There's a scream from somewhere in the small audience Harry and the boy had gathered. Harry drops the boy and he crumples to the ground, his hand flying to his nose where blood is gushing.

“I'm not fucking gay.” Harry spits, “And if I was it wouldn't fucking matter. I'd still be fucking human, something you shouldn't be counted as.” Harry kicks the boy's shin and then pushes through the crowd and Louis thinks there might have been a moment of eye contact before Harry passed him and onto the staircase.

“C'mon, Tommo, we have football practice.” Harry says from the top of the stairs. Louis thinks he's misheard. Is Harry talking _directly_ to him as if they were _friends?_ Holy shit. Louis somehow manages to unroot his feet and he follows Harry sown the stairs to the locker room. They don't say anything as they walk. Then Harry stops, takes his backpack off and presses it to the wall in one fluid motion and punches it over and over and over again until Louis hears the sound of glass shattering.

He doesn't know what to do. He sets down his bag and walks tentatively toward Harry, who is now removing his smashed iPhone from his bag, throwing it to the ground, and crushing it under his shoe.

“Harry-” Louis starts, probably about to calm him in some way but all the words of the english language evaporate from his mind, and all he's left with is hola, adios, and cajones because _oh my god_ Harry's _kissing_ him. 

There is no one on the stairwell. Louis is pretty sure anyway. He's not too aware of anything other than the fact that Harry just slipped his tongue into Louis' mouth and that Harry's hands are wound in Louis' hair, holding him close enough that Louis has no choice but to the same to Harry's curls.

Louis grazes his teeth on Harry's lower lip and a deliciously soft moan ghosts in Harry's throat. Louis would do anything _anything_ to hear that sound again, but then Harry is breaking off the kiss and the most pathetic whimper Louis has ever heard comes from his chest.

“I liked your skateboarding yesterday. You should teach me some time. And I meant what I said.” Harry whispers, his forehead pressed to Louis'. He touches his lips to the tip of Louis' nose, and by the time Louis finds his voice box to ask what Harry said that he meant, Harry is already gone.

Louis finds his legs then and stumbles to the locker room, wherein turning into Coach's office to ask what the hell he's gonna where, he sees Harry pull of his shirt and he envies the swallow tattoos that get to kiss those _fucking_ collar bones.

 

Practice is over and Louis is goddamn glad because that shit was not what he thought he was signing up for. He was not one to particularly enjoy extreme physical exercise, being pounded into the ground by sweaty teenage boys (and that pesky second voice pipes up but it doesn't actually say anything, just smirks), in early September heat, with the utmost of emotional turmoil spinning in his head. While wearing complete football garb. What the hell are these things fucking for like shoulders are supposed to be able to fucking _move_. 

And now, he has to undress for the second time today right at the locker next to Harry and then fucking _shower_ in a shower room with, like, 3 total curtains for the 20+ showers. And then, here's the kicker (which is actually quite a nice pun because that is the position Louis would fill in times of complete and utter desperation), he has to wash all of these boys' laundry now. 

“Hey everyone, great practice today. Friday after homecoming game I'm having a party at my house.” Liam announces as he unlaces his shoes. Jesus Christ it hurt when Liam had tackled him to the ground on the field. The boy's like the fucking _hulk_ and then he held out his hand to help Louis up? No one is that huge and _nice_. 

“Even towel boy?” Jace, some giant kid with too many muscles, asks. As it turns out, towel boy is really _really_ not an actual position, but a derogatory term. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry pipes up next to him, and Louis' gut twists, “Tommo should be able to come if he wants.” Louis wonders if there was slight emphasis on 'come', because he thinks there might have been a slight emphasis on 'come'. He wants to turn to the other kid next to him and ask if he heard the slight emphasis on 'come', because there was _totally_ some emphasis there- but, yeah, no, Louis' just projecting. Probably. Hopefully not, though. Or maybe he does want to be projecting. 

Louis doesn't really know what he wants anymore, and that's okay, 'cause, like, is he supposed to? 

Do other people know what they want?

The idea seems preposterous, that some people are in charge of their own lives, and not just drifting along in it.

 

Most of the boys have left. The showers were awkward. Harry's dick is huge even when its fucking flaccid what the fuck. Louis is glad he brought swim trunks at the last minute, and he's also glad he wasn't the only person with the idea, because that would have been awkward. But Harry just let it all hang out. And he thinks Harry might've winked at him, but, no, he didn't, he probably just got a drop of water in his eye. Yeah. Harry doesn't wink. Not at Louis. Even though they made out

They made out.

Wow.

_Wow_. 

_How's that for your fucking closure, eh Tommo?_ Louis thinks to himself. But it's not really closure at all. And he's reflecting all of this while throwing the damn _rancid_ smelling laundry into the washer. Remembering what it felt like to have Harry's tongue moving with his is making him really, _really_ want to jerk off. But he's pretty sure that that's completely and totally wrong and probably written in some life handbook: thou shalt not jerk off whilst in a school building. So he won't. Probably.

The door opens as he turns on the washing machine, and as he turns his face suddenly he is slammed into the metal washer and _fuck_ that's gonna bruise and the door just slammed but he only sort of heard it because Harry's tongue is in his mouth again. He barely got the chance to see Harry but he tastes like him and his curls are tickling Louis' cheekbones and those broad shoulders Louis is digging his fingers into couldn't possibly be anyone else's. And so Louis kisses back and he's kissing _hard_ and he's not sure if he'll ever taste food again because the taste of Harry's mouth is going to be a permanent part of him forever, probably. 

And then Harry's lips are latched onto the skin of Louis' neck, sucking and biting and eliciting the most wonderful kind of pain Louis' ever felt. A groan rises in his throat and he lets it rumble out. At the noise, Harry presses him back against the vibrating washer harder, Louis' spine curving to accommodate. Harry's knee pushes between Louis legs and separates them and _oh my god is this actually happening?_ Harry pushes his groin into Louis' creating friction Louis was in desperate need of. Thank god he wore loose boxers today and not briefs, he's so god damn _hard_.

Reaching between them, Louis reminds his hand how to move, with some difficulty, and starts palming Harry through his shorts and underwear. Harry moans against the skin of Louis' collar bone. A burst of courage strikes through Louis and suddenly he's pushing Harry back, reconnecting their lips and slamming Harry into the opposite wall. His hand slips under both elastic bands of both layers and he barely even tugs at Harry's length when Harry's lips let go of Louis' and his head falls back. The most angelic moan of, “ _God, Louis_.” erupts from Harry's throat as he comes into Louis' hand. 

God that was hot. Louis had barely even touched him, and- wow.

Harry's eyes open and he looks dazed. Louis hands him one of the dirty towels, after wiping his own hand on it, and Harry wipes himself off. Tossing it into the laundry, he wonders what poor soul will be using that towel unknowingly tomorrow. Though, you're hardly a poor soul if you ever get to even _see_ , never mind _cause_ , the come of a boy like Harry Styles.

Harry clears his throat then and rights his hair.

“Right then.” He says. And wow, _oh wow_ , Louis was not expecting Harry's post-orgasm look or voice. It makes him want to crash his lips on Harry's all over again and cause those pink cheeks, swollen lips, and ragged breaths all over again. 

“What did you say that you meant?” 

Harry looks confused, and Louis can't blame him. He's surprised he can remember anything more than what just happened.

He seems to realize what Louis' asking and blushes furiously, though Louis can't comprehend why.

“I meant it when I said I'm not gay.”

Oh.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has way way waaaay more hits, kudos, and bookmarks than I ever hoped for. (before this I didn't even know bookmarks were a thing) but I don't have any comments yet and it's always nice to hear what people thought, what you liked and didn't like.  
> Again, sorry for the run-on sentences, but I'm trying to write on thoughts because usually inmy third-person writing the characters are really flat and in my first-person writing its like, completely action "I do" this and "I go" that ugh ugh ugh soemtimes I hate my writing so I'm really really trying on this one.  
> Please tell me how I'm doing and hey tell me how you're doing how's your life been anything new, good grades in school?


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Styles? Gay? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard.” Perrie laughs, and something in Louis' stomach twists and he doesn't think he's ever wanted to punch a girl before now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter than usual, sorry :/  
> big chapter though, content wise

 

 

 

It doesn't seem likely that Louis' going to get off, as Harry is now walking out the door.

 

Louis needs to smoke, and he needs to smoke _now_. As soon as he's got this fucking laundry washed he has got to smoke a joint and skate home. That just _happened._ He made Harry _come_ in his _pants_ with the tiniest touch. What- just- _what_?

 

But okay, so Harry's not gay. That's- that's whatever because neither is Louis so it's not like it matters? 

 

But they did just grind and make out and _Harry fucking came in his pants holy shit Louis is never going to get over this_. 

 

So... what? Are they just experimenting? He's just Harry's experiment and Harry is just his?

 

Louis wants to text him and ask but, first off, Harry doesn't know Louis' number, Harry had posted it on Facebook one time and Louis couldn't stop himself from saving it, and secondly, Harry smashed his phone before he'd kissed Louis.

 

The washer beeps and Louis transfers the wet laundry to the drier, and the remaining dirty laundry to the washer. 

 

He doesn't really have anything to do and as much as he'd really like to just leave and _fuck it_ let the laundry get moldy, he knows he can't. Contemplating the events of today while he waits seems like a good idea, but what is there to contemplate? Harry kissed him, like _kissed_ him, kiss is too wimpy of a word there needs to be something more. _Kiss_ sounds to sweet, lips on lips, maybe a little open mouth. Making out implies, like, a bed. At least to Louis it does. There was something primal in that _kiss_. 

 

And then he fucking pushed Louis up against the washing machine and did it again. 

 

And, okay, yeah Harry maybe you're not gay that's cool Louis' not sure if he's straight but then what are you? Maybe he likes girls _and_ boys. But the way Harry said it, it really sounded like he was implying he's straight.

 

But straight boys do _not_ kiss other boys like Harry kissed Louis. _Like he wanted me_ , Louis thinks, and he's not sure if it's the first or second stream of thought. 

 

Finally, _finally_ , the laundry is done, and Louis practically launches himself off school property on his skateboard. The second the boundary is crossed he takes out a joint and lights it, winding through a particularly calm road. 

 

“Hey! Lou!” Louis hears a voice. _Fuck._ Zayn is the _last_ damn person Louis needs to see right now. It'll be far too tempting to tell him what happened, but of course if he did Zayn wouldn't understand. As pretty as Zayn is, and likes to keep himself, he's straight as a board. And completely loved up with Perrie. Not a conversation goes by when Zayn doesn't fill Louis in on their adventurous sex life. 

 

Louis stops the skateboard and looks behind him, shielding his eyes from the sun. Oh _great_ , Zayn _and_ Perrie. Zayn has his skateboard tucked under his arm and Perrie is walking her bike. Zayn tried to teach her to skateboard and then he made Louis try, but she was just a lost cause. 

 

“How was practice? Pez and I watched but we didn't see much.” Implying they were making out. Or more. Typical. 

 

Louis blows smoke from his mouth and holds the joint out to Zayn, he takes a hit and hands it to Perrie. Did Louis _say_ Perrie could smoke it too? 

 

Louis' just so fucking _jealous_ and he knows he is, but knowing something doesn't stop it.

 

“It was awful. I'm going to have so many bruises.” He says. He can already feel one on his back, but that wasn't from practice.

 

“Yeah, that Styles kid was pretty aggressive.” Perrie pipes up.

 

“Oh, he must have still been upset about what happened after health.” Louis shrugs. Can he _go_ now?

 

“What happened?” Zayn asks.

 

“I thought you would have heard by now,” Then again, they obviously weren't doing much talking, looking at the swollen state of Perrie's mouth, “some kid called him a fag and Harry probably broke his nose for it.”

 

“Styles? _Gay_? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard.” Perrie laughs, and something in Louis' stomach twists and he doesn't think he's ever wanted to punch a girl before now. 

 

What do they know about Harry? Nothing, that's what. They can't tell if he's gay or not. Not all gay people love shopping and talk like teenage girls or talk about boys 24/7. Louis doesn't, you'd think he was straight.

 

The thing in Louis' stomach twists again and – _oh god_ \- he doubles over and throws up all over Perrie's flip flops.

 

“Lou, are you alright?” Zayn asks at the same time Perrie makes some noise between a scream and a sob. What a stupid fucking question. He's puking his guts up _still_ as Zayn asks, though Perrie has moved now, and Zayn asks if he's _okay_? He really just wants to roll his eyes and say, “Yeah sure I'm fine I think I just admitted to myself I'm gay though.” but his mouth is otherwise occupied and not in the good way.

 

There's nothing left in his stomach and he dry heaves once before finally his throat stops convulsing.

 

“Lou?” Zayn questions.

 

“Probably some bad weed or something.” Louis lies. He crushes it under his Converse, he doesn't want to smoke anymore anyway. He kind of needs to think and the taste in his mouth is bad as it is.

 

“I'm going to go home now.” Louis states, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Gross. Zayn fishes in his pocket for a stick of mint gum and Louis takes it gratefully.

 

“Sorry, Pez.” He apologizes feebly. She doesn't want to say it's alright because really, no one wants to get thrown up on, so she just nods. “I could-?” He offers, gesturing to his shirt for her to wipe her feet off on.

 

“No, that's okay.” Zayn says, pulling his shirt over his head and handing it to Perrie.

 

Louis nods, and then kicks off on his skateboard without saying goodbye.

 

 

 

No one's home but Lottie when Louis gets home, and it's the best thing that's happened to Louis in a long, long time.

 

Lottie holds him for what feels like hours as he sobs into her neck.

 

“Are you ever going to tell me what's wrong?” She asks, her hand rubbing his back lightly. This feels so, so wrong. He should be consoling _her_ about boys. 

 

The words force their way up his throat, like the vomit from earlier but worse.

 

“I'm gay.”

 

He's never liked girls. He thought he liked girls. Really, honestly they aren't appealing at all. They're annoying and far too high pitched and why want a girl when there's boys like Harry walking this planet?

 

His hookups all happened when he was questioning himself, and he doesn't know why he hadn't put that together before. Every day he'd wonder of maybe, _maybe_ he'd always go out looking for a girl. 

 

He feels like his world is being turned upside down, but really it started tilting May 15th of his freshman year, and it finally just righted itself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely straight and have never considered having to realize i was gay so i dont know if vomiting was a viable (thats not the right word) option but yeah so yeah  
> also eventually the smut is going to get more descriptive but, again, being a 15 year old straight female I have very little experience with two males having sex so I've been reading lots of fic and I'm working on it :)
> 
> so i got my first comments on the last chapter and that was rly rly cool  
> my tumblr is liouis.tumblr.com if you wanted it  
> my twitter is zerrries if you wanted it  
> please comment telling me what you think and if I could improve on anything!  
> thank you so much for reading! I also hit 1k reads the other day and that was huge!


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like that of lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw aw aw this chapter didnt end up nearly how I'd planned it, it was supposed to have the homecoming game in it but i love it so much anyway awwww  
> also, possible title change, details in the end notes

 

  


 

The next few days are surprisingly normal but it makes Louis want to scream and throw things and cry. Walking into school on Wednesday had been excruciating. His only thought was a chorus of “I'm gay.” Some sobbed, like when he'd said it to Lottie. Some whispered when he'd said it that night to himself, testing out the words on his tongue. Some in his thought-voice.

 

He expected everyone to look at him when he walked in, as if he'd blown something up, as if he'd changed everything. Everything _was_ changed, though, but only to him.

 

He expected the team to shy away from him in the locker room and Zayn to stop talking to him.

 

But no one knew, it was just his heart rate that picked up, his breathing that increased, and no one else noticed.

 

And now it's Friday, the day of the homecoming game and he has to wear his goddamn jersey (now customized with Tomlinson on the back and number 17) and people keep asking him “since when have you been on the football team?” and he wants to punch every one of them but he doesn't because that would probably be bad.

 

Harry hasn't talked to him since- well they never really talked, but there hasn't been any interaction since Tuesday in the wash room. Though Louis thinks he might have caught Harry looking at him in health, which is first period on Fridays. It's lunch now, and Louis doesn't really feel like talking to anyone so he's wandering the halls, biting into an apple.

 

He feels so the same, but so _so_ different.

 

“Tomlinson.” He hears and he turns his head around, trying to find the source. The principal is walking toward him, looking like he means business. Harry is by his side and he looks like he knows more than Louis does, his eyes are wide and his hands are shaking. Louis has never seen Harry look less than completely and utterly confident.

 

"Please come with me to my office." Principal Morgan says, waving Louis over. Harry’s face is white and there’s complete silence as they walk to the principals office.

  
“Please sit boys.” Principal Morgan says, and Louis wonders if the ‘please’ is literal, that if he just said no would there be consequences. With adults, there are usually consequences and Louis doesn’t think he’s in a position to banter with the principal, so he sits. Harry’s leg is jiggling and his knuckles are white, his fingers squeezing onto the arms of the chair.

  
The principal turns his laptop to them then, and on the screen is a paused video. Harry lets out a low groan and his head falls, curls bouncing but almost dejectedly, like even his hair is upset.

  
The scene is blurry and in different shades if grey, and then Mr. Morgan presses play and suddenly there’s a second figure in the room and Louis is slammed into the washing machine, and then Morgan fast forwards and Louis pushes Harry back against the wall and his hand slips past the waistband of Harry’s shorts. Harry, who’d been watching with an expression of the utmost horror now drops his face into his hands, as the Harry in the video throws back his head.

  
Louis is _incredibly_ turned on, but that’s wildly inappropriate at this time so he tries to think of his grandma- which is now allowed be even _more_ unappealing, you know, with the admittance to himself that he’s gay and all.

  
“Boys, we found this video on Wednesday morning from the security tapes, and I’ve put off this confrontation until now debating on how to go about this. I decided to treat this just how we would if there was evidence of a girl and a boy showing physical affection on school property.”

  
“Which is?” Louis presses.

  
“A weeks worth of detention, you are banned from homecoming, and if you’re caught again you’ll get double the detention time.”

  
“Bullshit!” Louis shouts at the same time Harry just groans.

  
“Excuse me, Mr. Tomlinson, I don’t appreciate the language.”

  
“You can’t do this to us just because we’re gay!” Louis protests, and lightly kicks Harry under the table to tell him to _keep his damn mouth shut_. “You can’t walk through a single hallway without seeing heaps of girls and boys just making out right there! They should all be banned from homecoming. And what about fucking homecoming? There’s no dancing its all grinding! It’s like porn plus some god damn clothes.” Okay, judging by Morgan’s stony expression the angry approach is not working. Louis drops his voice and sniffles, “Our parents won’t accept us. We’re each other’s support, and sometimes we just need each other, alright?”

  
Louis pretends to wipe a tear from his right eye, and slips his left hand into Harry’s right, squeezing to tell him to hold back. Louis tries not to let the feeling of Harry’s warm, calloused palm rubbing against his own engrave itself into every part of his mind, every synapse and cortex and other brainy words Louis doesn’t know the definition of. _Harry’s not really holding your hand, it’s an act._

  
The principal tries to reply, Louis can see him trying to come up with a response, but finally his shoulders slump, “Fine. This is just a warning, next time you will have some consequences.”

 

Louis paints an elated response on his features and repeatedly thanks Mr. Morgan and he and Harry leave the office, hand in hand until the heavy door closes.

  
“That was _brilliant_!” Harry laughs, and suddenly his arms are around Louis and he’s hugging him, “You were absolutely brilliant!”

  
Louis laughs nervously, and tries not to let Harry’s scent twist itself into his memory, permeating every moment of his past and adding a scent that may or may not have actually been there.

  
“Pulling the gay card is _brilliant, phenomenal_ you were so convincing, oh my god.” He’s giddy, “‘You can’t do this to us just because we’re gay!’” He says, attempting to imitate Louis’ voice. _I’m not that high pitched_ , had it been said out loud it would have been a grumble.

  
“Well it wasn’t hard.” Louis says, a little too quietly because Harry continues.

  
“I can’t believe you got us out of that! You really should go out for the play! I could kiss you!” Louis briefly wonders how Harry knew he’s wanted to do drama, before the last exclamation slithers into his ears.

  
Harry stops then, and he doesn’t kiss Louis, like Louis so desperately wants, instead his cheeks flush what is probably the cutest shade of pink Louis has ever seen, and his ears are three times darker. So then, and later Louis could blame the god damn rosy cheeks and strawberry colored lips and bright, excited green eyes, but so then, _Louis_ kisses _Harry._ A first. And Harry kisses back, and Louis hasn’t felt like this since May 14th in freshman year, when his life was really normal and right. Because this feels normal and so, so _right_.

  
This isn’t primal, like the post-blow job kiss or pre-practice kiss or post-practice kiss. Louis is perfectly content with this being defined as a kiss, the word fitting it to a T.

  
Louis is glad they’d migrated as Harry talked to a more secluded corner of the school, where most of the classes were at lunch. He realizes Harry’s hands are by his sides, and just as he makes the realization, he feels one gently cup the back of his neck. One of Louis’ hands is resting flat on Harry’s chest, and the other is ghosting along the taller boy’s strong jaw. Louis likes how he an feel the muscles and joints moving as they kiss, like it’s actually happening. Because, holy _shit_ , it _is_.

  
He didn’t know how much he’d been holding back when he was in denial about his sexuality. Louis’ kissing Harry like he means it, like Harry means everything. He’s kissing Harry like he’ll die tomorrow- not quite completely chaste, but not too sensual either.

  
Harry’s mouth feels amazing on his. His lips are hot, and they can’t seem to get enough of Louis’ mouth. His other hand is now pressed to Louis’ lower back, pressing him close, but not too close where it’s erotic. Just- a nice proximity. _Like that of lovers._ The second stream pipes up, and it makes Louis smile against Harry’s mouth. Like that if lovers, now isn’t that a phrase he likes.

  
“Why are you smiling?” Harry grumbles, trying to push Louis to him again, lips wanting. That makes Louis smile just the tiniest bit wider, now incapable of kissing back against Harry’s lips, placing tiny pecks around Louis’ mouth.

  
“This is new. I- I kind of like it.” Louis whispers, having no intention of whispering but hey, it happened anyway.

  
“Yeah, well, shut up me too and we only got another minute or two.” And with that Harry's hand knots itself in Louis' hair and brings their lips together again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! It means bunches :)  
> Also, I'm windering now if I should change the title of the fic to "Like That of Lovers." It was titled Take A Hit because taking a hit of a joint or taking a hit in football and i just liked it but now I'm really liking "Like That of Lovers."  
> So vote in the comments! Tell me which one I should have as a title because I really suck at decision making.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis' going to have to get used to getting shit for liking boys, eventually he'll come out and someday he'll walk down the street hand in hand with his boyfriend and some asshole will call him a fag- might as well start early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100+ KUDOS  
> YOU GUYS ARE SO COOL I DEDICATE THIS TO YOU EVEN THOUGH THIS IS THE WORST CHAPTER SO FAR I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT

 

  
  


 

Louis never got the chance to tell Harry he was gay, which he meant to after Harry told him he liked kissing him- but then his mouth was otherwise occupied. In the good way.

 

But now he's watching Harry play god damn football from the bench while people cheer around him, but not for him, which is fine really, he hates football, but he wishes he told. God football is _boring_. It's only fun when the opposing team gets tackled.

 

And then something happens, but everyone is on their feet and cheering and yelling, “ _C'MON STYLES_!” Louis' eye finally finds Harry, who has the football tucked under his arm and he's running faster than Louis thought possible toward the end zone. And then Louis realizes the severity of the situation: four seconds left on the clock, and counting, a tie score, _a first homecoming win in fifteen years_.

 

And the other team isn't even _close_ to touching Harry. Harry is booking it, there's no one on his tail, and then he's crossed the line and the roar is deafening as the whistle blows and Louis' on his feet cheering with everyone, louder than he thinks maybe he should be, then again he is on the team. And he does seem to kiss Harry quite regularly. That's got to count for something.

 

The other guy that sits on the bench with Louis, Ben, starts running onto the field and Louis follows him, joining the crowd of jumping and cheering guys. It's just chaos of yellow and green, but Louis still catches it when Harry gets a little closer to his face than he should have, looking like he might have been about to kiss him.

 

After the formalities and the showers, Louis heads to the laundry room. The door opens and he half expects it to be Harry, but it's Liam.

 

“Hey, Tommo, you coming to the party?” He asks, rubbing his short hair with his towel one last time before tossing it into the dirty laundry basket.

 

Louis hadn't really thought about it, he's been just a little preoccupied.

 

“Well, I have all this laundry to do...” He trails off when he sees Liam's condescending look.

 

“Lou, since when are you one to follow rules? You were the guy who skateboarded through the freshman hallway last year and pushed as many over as you could. You were the guy who pantsed Mr. Howard in eighth grade. You were the guy who fingered Harri the other day in this exact room.”

 

Louis chokes on his own saliva, “I did _what_ to Harry?”

 

“You fingered Harri Phillips, you know, Lacey Collins' best friend. One of the hottest, most unattainable girls probably to ever exist?”

 

Louis' mind is racing, lie, lie, _lie,_ “Oh, yeah, how do you know about that?”

 

“The whole school is _buzzing_ with it, dude, how haven't you noticed?” Liam laughs. Louis shrugs.

 

Harri Phillips is the sweetest girl in the entire school, and that's why she's unattainable. She's a virgin as far as anyone knows, gets straight A's, and still manages to be absolutely fucking gorgeous. She has short, dark hair, which she almost always curls, and she's very tall. Had anyone seen the tape, Louis could see how maybe they thought it had been her in her field hockey uniform or something. But hopefully they only know by the mentioning of names, which _dear lord_ Louis hopes because it wouldn't take long to realize that it was actually Harry, a boy, who Louis'd been making out with. But for them to think it's Harri...

 

This will ruin her.

 

“So you coming? If you need a ride I'm giving Harry one too, and there's room.”

 

  
  


 

When Louis steps into the house next to Harry and Liam, a rush of de ja vu clouds his mind. He looks to his right and sees Harry looking at him with an emotion he can't place. This is the house Harry blew him in. Holy _shit._ Liam must have had an older sibling who threw the party then, now graduated.

 

The party is already in full swing, because Harry had to blow dry his hair and Liam called him a fruitcake and Louis had to stop himself from smiling. Harry made some excuse about 'thick hair' and 'it takes fucking _ages_ to dry, alright?' but of _course_ they made fun of him anyway.

 

Liam melts into the crowd after spotting his girlfriend Danielle.

 

“I, uh-” Louis doesn't quite know what he was going to say and he just walks away from Harry, finding Perrie's light hair and Zayn's dark next to her.

 

“Hey Lou! Great game wasn't it?” Zayn has to yell over the music and Louis agrees, finding himself a drink.

 

  
  


 

Louis is on his fourth drink now and he's sipping it angrily, though he's not sure if you can sip something angrily. He's not-so-discreetly watching Harry make out with a girl in a semi-secluded corner. She looks sloppy. Her tongue is practically wagging over his whole face.

 

“Why are you scowling?” Zayn asks, coming over with a drink for him and Perrie.

 

“No reason, gotta piss.” Louis hoists himself up and walks to the back bathroom, where there's less people. As he's making his way to the bathroom, he spots a tall, curly haired figure.

 

“Harri!” He calls, trying to get her attention. A few people snigger, the ones who aren't kissing. She turns around and scowls. It's quite weird how much of a coincidence it is, that she has the same name as Harry, just spelled differently (and it's short for Harriet) and she can look so much like him on a shitty camera.

 

“What do _you_ want?” Louis has never heard Harri sound so angry before.

 

“I just need to talk to you. Maybe on the porch?” God this family has a nice house. A balcony _and_ a porch? Damn.

 

She sighs and motions with her head to follow him, leading him out to the porch. Louis flips off the people who laugh or mutter anything. He wishes he could tell them they've got the wrong Harry, because Harri's shoulders slump at every titter.

 

Finally they're alone on the porch, and the music is only a throb of the wood beneath them. Louis sits on the edge of the porch, legs through the poles holding the railing up, she joins him. How the _fuck_ is he going to do this?

 

“Why'd you do it?” She asks, leaning her forehead against two of the bars. Louis doesn't get a chance to answer before she's talking again. “Women wear white at weddings to symbolize purity. It's an old tradition, because you're supposed to wait until marriage. I just wanted to do that for myself. So that the guy I'm finally with won't leave once he gets what he wants, because divorce is one hell of a hassle. I just wanted the white of my dress to mean something, and now everyone thinks that we- that we have something going on, but really this is the most I've ever spoken to you. Why did you have to spread that god damn rumor?”

 

Louis takes a deep breath, “I didn't.” This girl deserves the truth. Louis' going to have to get used to getting shit for liking boys, eventually he'll come out and someday he'll walk down the street hand in hand with his boyfriend and some asshole will call him a fag- might as well start early.

 

“Then who did?”

 

“I don't know, I only found out about it today.” He says.

 

“Who would make that up?” She asks, pulling her eyebrows together.

 

Louis shrugs. God, he's not ready for this. “They must have over heard a teacher saying something- maybe the principal or the security camera monitor guy. I- I was with someone in the laundry room. Harry. Like, Styles. Harry Styles. We, um, we were, um, kissing, and I gave him a han-”

 

“Oh. _Oh_.” She stops him, her eyes widening. “Are you- are you-?”

 

“Gay? Yeah. Harry, not so much. Last I saw he was getting his face licked off by some girl.” Louis lets out a long sigh. At least he didn't puke. He's surprised when she pats his shoulder. He looks up at her, confused and feeling very tired.

 

 _God_ , who _is_ he? What happened to not giving a fuck and skating around and laughing at all things serious?

 

“I'm- I'm sure the rumor will blow over soon. If you want to just- If you don't want people to know. I'm okay with that.” She says. It takes Louis a minute to work out what she's saying and _holy shit_.

 

“You'd do that?”

 

She takes a deep breath and nods. Louis doesn't know what he's doing until he's done it, his arms are squeezing around her tightly and he bites his lip to keep from crying. _Stop being such an emotional little bitch, god Louis._

 

“Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still debating the title! Take a Hit or Like That of Lovers?   
> tell me in the comments please!
> 
> if you wanted to know:  
> my tumblr is liouis.tumblr.com  
> my twitter is zerrries


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw i didn't think i was going to like this chapter but i really really do this is a pivotal chapter when it wasn't meant to be and those are the best kind

 

  
  


Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to discreetly (probably not very discreetly, Louis is very drunk) to follow Harry and the girl, Brittany, upstairs. Brittany. What a typical girl name. What a typical girl. She doesn't deserve Harry. Her hair isn't even really _blonde_. The roots are god damn black. Harry deserves someone _real_.

Then again, what does Louis know about what Harry deserves? They've never really talked, now that he thinks about it. A few times in freshman year and then the thing happened and there was a whole lot of avoidance.

But, back to the situation at hand. The one in which Louis is being the creepiest of creeps and listening to the sounds of Harry and the girl making out. Again. But this time, with more intention. He hears the sound of jeans crumpling to the floor and he has to wrench himself away from the door.

He launches himself into the bathroom and closes the door before he can begin to listen again, but that doesn't prove effective. There's an air vent connecting the two rooms, and Louis can hear everything that's going on.

God it must be embarrassing to take a shit in this house.

“Why are you trying to take off my clothes?” Louis hears Harry mumble, his mouth probably pressed against Brittany's.

“So we can fuck?” It's not a question, do not say it as a question _Brittany_.

“I never said anything about fucking.” Harry says. Louis thinks his eyebrows might be pulled together. Yeah, Harry definitely does that.

“Yeah, you did. You asked me if I wanted to come upstairs to take this further. If that doesn't mean fucking I don't know what does.”

“Well, I changed my mind then. Sorry.” Harry mumbles, and Louis doesn't think he should smile but he does anyway.

“What the fuck?” Brittany asks.

“I'm really sorry. I'm not feeling so well. I- yeah. Sorry.” Louis hears the door opening and closing and then the bathroom door opens and there's Harry. His mouth drops open the tiniest bit, but Louis holds up a finger to his own lips and points with his other hands to the vent. Harry closes the door to the bathroom and they wait in silence. They hear the sound of Brittany muttering to herself and zipping her jeans, the opening and closing of a door, and then she's gone.

“Did you-?”

“Hear that? Yeah.” Louis nods.

“I- um-” Harry doesn't seem to remember how to use his words, but that's okay. When Louis' around Harry he often has the same problem.

“Do you want to get some air? We could, like, sit on the curb or something. The music's kind of giving me a headache anyway.” Louis suggests and Harry looks relieved.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Air would be good.” Harry runs his fingers through his curls and oh _fuck_ Louis really doesn't know how this boy exists. They walk out of the bathroom, and Louis' glad there's no one outside. He hadn't considered the fact that walking out of the bathroom together might be a bit strange.

They make their way out of the house, going out the side door on the porch, and walk down the driveway in silence.

“Hold on.” Louis says, opening the back of Liam's car and grabbing his bag from the back seat. He closes the door and then removes his skateboard.

“Are you sure you should skateboard?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You had a lot to drink. “ Harry says, and then flushes.

“How would you know that?” Louis asks, and a teasing tone creeps into his voice.

“Well, I happen to be a very observant person.” Harry says defiantly, but there's humor behind his voice. They reach the curb, pretty far away from the house now. Louis realizes he really shouldn't skateboard. The world is tilting and he might fall over. Though, he's not sure if the tilting is the actual planet, the alcohol, or the burning desire to rest his head on Harry's shoulder.

“So, I guess we're supposed to actually talk, since that's what we came out here to do. I like talking. You can find out wonderful things about a person if they tell those things to you.” Louis decides it was the alcohol tilting the world. Was he this drunk in the bathroom?

“Can talking wait a minute? I want to try something.”

Louis doesn't really get a chance to answer because Harry smothered all possible responses when he pressed his lips to Louis'. It's a short kiss. Sweet. Tender. Quite lovely. Louis decides he likes the word lovely and that no adjective describes Harry better. Harry the lovely.

Harry pulls away and Louis smiles, “That was quite lovely-” there, he'd used it, “but we've already tried that.”

“No, it was a little different.” Harry smiles quietly. You can't really smile quietly, but Harry did. _Really, this boy is impossible_. Louis thinks to himself, and Harry's smile gets louder- wider. Louder is better. Harry definitely smiles with volume.

“How am I impossible?” Harry asks, and Louis realizes how close they are when the tip of his nose brushes Louis'. Not that Louis minds, not at all.

“The whole point of 'impossible' is not being able to explain it, don'tchaknow.” Louis smirks. “I'll tell you as soon as I figure you out.”

“Was that even english? Could you try again without slurring?” Harry teases, his dimples popping out on his cheeks. Louis reaches up and pokes one, and it grows deeper under his touch.

“You are so out of it. I should have know you were wasted by the look on your face in that bathroom.” Harry laughs.

  
  


Louis really _was not_ expecting the color of the wall when he woke up. And since when did he sleep pressed to the wall? And why was the wall tan? His walls are blue, aren't they?

His vision focuses and he realizes it's skin he's looking at, and then he makes out the bridge of a nose and dark eyelashes. He pulls back and there's Harry.

The pounding in his head makes it into the forefront of his thoughts, and he decides how he got here can be determined later, he's cold, hungover, and sleepy. So he moves back to where he was, if not a little closer, and tucks his feet under Harry's legs for warmth. He always was a sleep-cuddler. His mom used to call him a heat-seeking missile.

“The sun is a relatively cold star.” Harry murmurs, and presses his fingers against Louis' neck, “You feel warm to me.”

Louis' eyelids are already drooping again and his mind has lost connection with his voice box.

“And you really do have to work on keeping your thoughts in your head. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

A minute passes. Louis is in that state of near-sleep. Something could wake him very easily, but if nothing happens he'll be out in a few seconds. An arm wraps around his torso and pull him closer, but he decides he'd like to sleep during that.

“Let me know when you figure me out. I need some help.” Harry whispers- but now, much to his disappointment, Louis is too far gone. Louis falls asleep the way he might possibly, just _maybe,_ be falling in love- resisting the whole way down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the last line too close to the John Green quote? I often get phrases stuck in my head instead of songs, and "I fell in love the way you fall asleep- slowly, then all at once." has been in my head for about a week so I apologize if it's too close. I can take it out if it is.
> 
> if you wanted to know:  
> my tumblr is liouis.tumblr.com  
> my twitter is zerrries
> 
> please let me know what you like and don't like about this story! I welcome any and all feedback!


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to the run on sentences. Not that we'd ever stopped, but they've increased again.  
> Screw you grammar, no one likes you.  
> why are my chapters so short???

 

  


Louis opens his eyes again, but this time he is facing the actual wall, a calm green color. It suits Harry’s room. The pounding in his head is still there, just less prominent, though he will need some pain meds for it.

  
He turns over, and he’s completely alone in the bed. But it’s Harry’s house, he can’t have gone far.

  
After working up the courage to emerge from the warm blankets, he shuffles out of the room and the sound of breakfast being made hits his ears. His stomach clenches as he walks out into the kitchen. What has Harry told his family?

  
“Good morning! You must be Louis, Harry’s told me you drank too much at the party and needed a place to stay.” A woman, Louis assumes its Harry’s mom, steps forward and shakes his hand. “I know teenagers will be teenagers and there’s nothing I can do, I’m just glad you didn’t try to drive home.”

  
“Oh I don’t even have a car.” Louis answers stupidly, that _was_ a stupid answer. But he’s hungover, that’s why he can’t focus, of course. It’s definitely not because Harry is sitting at the table with only a towel around his waist, his hair dark from the shower, smiling like an idiot at something the girl sitting next to him said.

  
“Oh, well, neither does Harry. Harry, remind me how you got home?” His mom turns to him.

  
“Oh, we, uh, walked.” Harry answers, running his fingers through his wet hair. Louis thinks it might be a nervous habit.

  
“I don’t remember walking.” Louis says, confused.

  
“Yeah, you passed out.” Harry blushes.

  
“Jesus Harry! Did you carry him all that way?” The girl exclaims.

  
“It’s really not that far.” Harry blushes, “And he kind of came to so I wasn’t carrying him, like, bridal style. Just, sorta dragging his feet on the ground.”

  
Louis in a wedding dress in Harry’s arms, now isn’t _that_ an interesting image.

  
“Why don’t you sit down, Lou, do you mind being called Lou? I’ll get you some ibuprofen and the pancakes will be ready in a minute.” Mrs. Styles says, gesturing to the seat next to Harry. Louis nods and sits down.

  
“I’m Gemma, by the way, Harry’s sister.” Gemma says, reaching across the table to shake his hand. Louis takes it and smiles. Good. Sister is good.

  
Harry’s mom sets down two pills and a glass of water next to Louis, “Thank you, Mrs, Styles.” Louis says, picking up the pills and popping them in his mouth.

  
“Call me Anne, please.” She says and Louis nods, gulping down the pills with some water.

  
“How long have I been asleep while everyone else was awake?” Louis asks, putting on his talking-to-adults voice instead of his “I’m trying to be a sarcastic asshole who makes shitty puns and annoys you” voice.

  
“Just about a half an hour.” Gemma says, standing up to help her mom. Harry stands too, tightening his towel so it doesn’t fall, and helps them carry the plates of pancakes to the table. Louis gets up, not wanting to look like a bum, and looks for the syrup in the fridge. He sets it down on the table and they start eating.

  
God the fact Harry is literally less than two feet away from him completely _naked_ excepting a towel which doesn’t even _count_ is so damn distracting. Louis can barely find his mouth with his bite of pancake, sopping in syrup.

  
“Do you want some pancakes with your syrup?” Harry teases and Louis sticks out his tongue.

  
Isn’t it funny how just five days or so ago, he thought he was straight and he hated Harry. And now look at him, talking to Harry is completely natural and its one of his favorite things ever _ever_ even though he hasn’t really done it much.

  
Anne is smiling like a fool, “Harry’s never had a friend over before. Girls, but never friends, like _just friends_. I told him that that was fine, boys and girls will do what boys and girls do-” Louis internally winces, “just as long as they’re safe and I don’t hear or see anything. Preferably I wouldn’t be there at all, but sex crazed teenagers will be sex crazed teenagers and-“

  
“ _Mom_.” Harry says through clenched teeth.

  
“Yes, honey?” Anne looks pleased with herself, she knows she’s embarrassed him.

  
“Stop _talking_.”

  
And then everyone’s laughing, (excluding Harry, his ears are turning red and his cheeks are pink and Louis really wants to kiss him again because Harry blushing seems to be his kryptonite but he won’t because that would probably be a bad thing to do at this point in time), and Louis might be nervous laughing but he’s not really sure.

  
“All I’m saying is that it’s just nice to have a normal friend sitting in that spot.” Anne smiles, and Louis smiles back but it kind of hurts because his cheeks seem to be resisting, knowing its not genuine. Louis is far from a normal friend. Far from a friend in general, and come to think of it, far from normal. Louis thinks he might have just insulted himself, and that bickering with his own mind is probably unhealthy and he should shut up.

  
Everyone is done eating now and Gemma stands up to clear her plate, so Louis follows.

  
“No, why don’t you and Harry go do whatever it is boys do. Play video games, talk about football, watch porn, I’ll take care of the kitchen.” Anne says.

  
“Mom, we can help.” Harry says, rolling his eyes at her crude humor.

  
“Last time you tried to clean up after a meal you broke three dishes, I don’t think so. Besides, you should probably get dressed.” She replies, gesturing to his towel. _No!_ Louis practically shouts in his mind, _do not get dressed. Please remain in nothing but that towel._ Harry’s torso is quite a thing of beauty. Adorned in tattoos, Louis realizes just how liberal Anne is. Louis thinks his favorite is the butterfly on Harry’s upper stomach, or the “might as well…” scripted on his hipbone. Harry’s stomach is toned and muscled, but not overly so, and _fuck_ he’s so tan and-

  
Shit. Was he staring? Probably. Sounds like something he’d do.

  
“Fine, fine.” Harry grumbles, “C’mon Lou.”

  
“Have fun with your video games.” Gemma snickers, and Louis thinks she might know more than she lets on, maybe not though.

  
Louis wonders if kissing every inch of Harry’s body counts as a game. Or, kissing a certain section, actually. They could make it a competition. Whoever comes first loses. Or is that winning?

  
That probably won’t happen. It’d be nice though.

  
They reach Harry’s room.

  
“What did you do to my bed?” Harry laughs.

  
“I move around a lot in my sleep, my covers always end up on the floor at home, too.” Harry’s comforter is piled in a heap next to the bed, the pillows are askew, and the fitted sheet is pulled off the top right corner. Oopsies.

  
“I can fix that while you get dressed, if you want.” Louis suggests. Though he really wants to watch Harry get dressed, because getting dressed means removing the towel, but he won’t. Unless Harry offers. Then he _totally_ will. Lots of looking. Maybe touching. Might use all of his senses. Sight, touch, _taste_ … Alright, only three.

  
_God, Tomlinson, pull yourself together._ Louis thinks sharply to himself.

  
“Did you hear what I said?” Harry asks, amusement twinkling in his green eyes.

  
“Um, oh, yeah, I’ll um, get started on fixing the bed.” That’s probably what Harry said, right?

  
“No, I can do that. I asked you if you wanted to take a shower-” Louis so desperately wants him to add a _together_ , but he doesn’t, “-because you kind of look like shit. Hungover is not good on you.”

  
“Gee, thanks.” Louis rolls his eyes.

  
“No problem.” Harry grins, and Louis wants to kiss him all over his damn stupid fucking face _god_ you’re _not allowed_ to be cute and sexy at the same _fucking_ time as being an idiot and an asshole what the _hell_.

Louis is very glad he’s sober and can keep his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth.

  
“Oh, uh, yeah, that’d be cool.” Louis answers, and he’s probably a deep shade of pink and its probably hideous and ugh. Just ugh. Why does his life have to be so _ugh_.

  
“Bathroom’s just the first door to the right, there should be a clean towel hanging there, you can use any of the shampoos and stuff. You might end up smelling like a girl though.”

  
“Is that why you always smell so fruity?” Louis teases and Harry laughs, shooing him out the door so he can get dressed.

  
Louis makes his way to the bathroom, fiddles with the controls on the shower for a while before finally get the water on, and undresses. Why are other people’s showers so darn complicated? He steps under the hot water and _fuck yes_ he didn’t know how gross he felt until he got into the shower.

  
He mixes all the shampoos he can find together in his palm, like he used to when he was little, just not pretending he’s a wizard making potions. Except maybe he is. Pretending, that is. Not a wizard. Louis massages it through his hair, practically feeling the gross, post-party ickiness washing out.

 

  
He finds a bar of soap and others up his body, and he realizes this is what Harry uses and now he can smell Harry like he’s wrapped around him. Briefly, (very briefly) he wonders if that’s creepy, and he decides the books his sister reads say things like that, so, fuck it. He likes how Harry smells so smelling it all the time is just a bundle of joy.

  
He starts to hum quietly as he rinses the shampoo and soap off him, and before he knows it, he’s practically _belting_ out “Valerie”, singing like he’s in front of a crowd. If he were to try out for drama next month, which he _knows_ he won’t, Louis knows himself maybe better than he’d like to, he’d probably sing either this song or Look After You by The Fray. Unless Ed is writing the audition song like he did last year.

  
The one he’d written last year was quite pretty, and Louis has a copy because he did sign up to audition, he just never showed. He switches from Valerie to a verse in the middle of the song, his favorite part.

 

"Hands are silent,  
Voice is numb,  
Tried to scream out my lungs,  
It makes this harder.  
And the tears stream  
Down my face.”

 

Finally, he’s done showering and reverts his voice back down to a hum as he turns the water off. He towels off with a clean, white towel hanging next to the shower, and then wraps it around his waist.

  
What is he supposed to wear? His dirty clothes? They smell like alcohol and he briefly remembers bumping into someone and spilling on himself. Gross.

  
Maybe Harry will have something he can wear? He secures his towel around his hips and walks into Harry’s room. He feels a little, okay that’s bullshit, _really_ self conscious as he opens the door to Harry’s room. But then Harry turns and sees him, standing there with his torso bare and water dripping from him, and Harry’s eyes go a little wider and his breath might have just hitched the littlest bit, and Louis isn’t really all that shy anymore.

  
“So, I didn’t really want to wear my dirty clothes, you don’t happen to have anything I could wear?” Louis asks. Harry’s eyes are practically caressing every inch of Louis’ chest and stomach. You wouldn’t think it, but skateboarding is quite the nice ab work out.

  
“Oh, right, uh, yeah hold on.” Harry says and walks over to his dresser, limbs jerking like they’d forgotten how to move.

  
He rummages through his drawers for a moment before whirling around and muttering, “Fuck it.” His lips crash onto Louis’, and it brings back memories of the night previous, but only briefly because now he’s having a hard time remembering much.

  
He feels Harry’s hands traveling from Louis’ shoulders down his sides wear they meet the towel hanging low on his hips. Louis shudders and kisses Harry feverishly, as if he were begging him with his lips and tongue. Harry’s fingers of his rig hand work out the knot and the towel falls. _This is actually happening_. Louis thinks to himself, and he almost whimpers when Harry pulls his lips away from his. But then he has to stop a different kind of whimper when he drops to his knees.

  
“Can I?” Harry asks, looking up at Louis. Can he? _Can he?!_ _ **Of course he fucking can.**_

  
Louis just nods, because he thinks his heart is in his mouth and if he talks it might come out and he might just die right then and there.  
Louis is already half hard. Harry uses his thumb to spread Louis’ precum around his head. Louis lets out a light moan/whimper combination. Memories of May 15th in freshman year fight to surface, but Louis really doesn’t want to think about what happened after.

  
Harry’s tongue flicks out over Louis’ slit and Louis shudders. _Fuck._ Harry slowly pumps his hand over Louis’ length. He starts to swirl his tongue around the head of Louis’ cock and oh _shit_ it’s too much.

  
“Harry-” he squeezes his eyes shut, he’s going to hate himself for this in about four seconds, “Harry stop.”

  
Harry pulls away, looking confused, “Why?”

  
“Are you going to talk to me once this is over? Or are you going to make me sit through another two years of confusion?” It could have come out offensive and snarky. But he says it so quietly it sounds almost sad.

  
Harry doesn’t answer, he looks pale, like his face just drained of all blood, and there is an unreadable expression on his face.

  
“Can I have those clothes now?” Louis asks and Harry nods, standing up from where he was knelt.

  
The four seconds are long up, but Louis’ not sure if he regrets it. He deserves to know whether or not Harry is just going to run away from his problems or not. Run away from Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you were in need of a blowjob, but the plot was not and the plots needs are quite important to me.  
> If you wanted to know:  
> My tumblr is liouis.tumblr.com  
> My twitter is zerrries
> 
> Also, I hit 1k reads yesterday, oh my god how does that even happen???? Thank you all so much I love you!
> 
> Let me know what you like about this story and what I could improve on in the comments! (This was written on my ipad, sorry about any spelling/grammar mistakes other than run on sentences because those were intentional.)


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   
>  I  
> LOVE  
> THIS  
> CHAPTER  
> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

  
  


Louis has to awkwardly ask for a pair of boxers, too, because, well, his underwear are dirty and for right now, commando is not an option. He gets dressed and they're silent.

“I'm sorry.” Louis says. He's not sure what _exactly_ he's apologizing for, but he's sure there's something. There's always something to apologize for. His mom told him that when he was little. And every night before bed, he would always say sorry to anything he may have harmed. She told him that maybe he didn't know, but maybe he stepped on an ant hill at recess or the plastic bag from his lunch might have blown out of the full trash can and an animal may have eaten it. Louis' always hated hurting things, and of course Harry is no different. So if he hurt him, he'd like to apologize.

“Why are you sorry?” Harry laughs lightly.

“Because...” Louis trails off.

“Because what? You told me to stop giving you head? I don't really think that's something you need to apologize for.” Harry says.

“Okay.” Louis can't come up with a better response.

There's silence and Louis waits for Harry to say it. _Please_ , Louis begs silently, _please tell me you're sorry._

More silence.

“You are _so_ fucking _confusing_ , you know that?” Louis snaps, and Harry looks up from where he'd had his head in his hands. He looks surprised at the sudden outburst, and Louis doesn't blame him because he is too. Harry remains quiet, a signal for Louis to go on.

“May 15th. Freshman year. You gave me a blowjob, and from what I remember of the events leading up to it, you were pretty aggressive. I had thumb shaped bruises in my goddamn hips and they were the best fucking bruises to ever grace my skin.” That wasn't supposed to come out, but if rewinding life and trying again was something Louis knew how to do, he'd rewind as far back as he could and hope he came out a different person. (Some other thought underneath that one looks at it in horror, wondering if he actually wants that and then the first one snaps back that yes, he fucking _does_.)

“Then, after giving me my first orgasm from another person, you kissed me. But you kissed me like you liked me, like you wanted me. I might have been drunk off my fucking ass but you kissed _me_ and you did it like you meant it. And then you never spoke to me again.”

Harry looks like he's going to interject, but Louis doesn't give him the chance, “Do you know how hard that was? Can you even fathom? Two and a half god damn _years_ went by before we made fucking eye contact, and I still wasn't over it! Do you know what you make me feel? Do you have any idea of how hard the past few days have been for me? _I'm gay, Harry_.” Louis is seething, and the last three words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them, but he pretends he meant to all along. “I can't be your plaything. I don't want to kiss you!” _Wait, that's wrong,_ “Well, I mean, I do, like, lots. But I want to talk to you and get to know you and ask you what your tattoos mean and listen to some stupid in-depth answer and _then_ kiss you silly. I want to take you out to shitty pizza restaurants and _then_ kiss you. I want to buy you meaningful-yet-shitty Christmas presents and _then_ kiss you. I want to be your shitty _boyfriend_ not your experiment. And if you can't do that, I don't mean now but not _ever,_ then we have to stop this, because you're fucking me up.”

“You're gay?” Harry breathes.

“That's all you got out of that? Really?” Louis says, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

“Well, it's not like it's a minor detail!” Harry nearly shouts.

“Then yes, Harry, I _am_ , in fact, gay. I like the idea of dicks and ass, not tits and ass.”

“It's very hard not to break into a “Tits and Ass” from A Chorus Line.”

“And your really are sure you're straight? You know fucking broadway songs!”

Harry had stood up at some point during the argument, but now he sits back down and presses his head in his palms again.

“I don't _know_.” He practically wails. “I like girls. Like, I think I do. The idea of boobs is pretty nice and vaginas are cool and all. But then- then there's _you._ And I've been infatuated with you since eighth grade and I was drunk and you were so _pretty_ and fucking _giggling_ standing on that balcony and I didn't know how to keep all that adoration in so I just- made you feel good. And then, yeah, I kissed you like I liked you. Because I did, I _do_ , like you. I like you I like you I like you. And I don't know if I like boys, but I like _you._ ”

Louis is speechless. Completely and utterly dumb. Harry liked him for that long? He _still_ likes him?

Louis feels all his anger, the grudge that had festered for over two years, just melt away.

“Oh.” Louis whispers, because his voice is kind of gone.

“Oh?” Harry questions his choice of response.

“Oh.” Louis nods.

Louis sits down next to Harry on the edge of his freshly made bed. They sit in silence for a good 30 seconds, before Louis leans over and kisses Harry's temple.

“I like you too. If you hadn't figured that out.”

“So what are we going to do about that?” Harry asks, a smile creeping its way onto his lips. Louis wants to kiss it until it's gone. So he does, because he can.

  
  


Louis and Harry are now _actually_ playing video games. Go figure. Louis is pretty good at it, he's had a lot of practice playing FIFA at home when avoiding homework and all general responsibility.

Finally, they're both sick of Louis winning over and over again, so Harry turns off the TV.

“So, after you brought me here we didn't...” Louis trails off.

“No,” Harry laughs, “you were pretty unconscious at that point.”

“Oh, alright.” Louis says.

“You sound disappointed, would you have liked me to have taken advantage of you in your compromised state?” Harry teases, and Louis tries not to think about how _couply_ they sound- because, no, they aren't a couple. They just mutually like each other and kissed about an hour ago until they couldn't breathe. Not a couple. They also had a major fight-thing about an hour and one minute ago, also sort of couply. But really, they aren't a couple.

Much to Louis' displeasure.

“No, I suppose not. Though, taking advantage of me when I'm completely conscious is not out of the question.” Since when did he talk like this?

“Duly noted.” Since when did Harry talk like that?

Not that Louis minds. Not at all.

And he really, _really_ doesn't mind when he realizes Harry's about to kiss him again, though he is a little ticked off when there's a sharp knock on the door.

He and Harry spring apart as Gemma opens the door, “Louis, somehow your mom tracked us down, she wants to know that you're alright and when you'll be coming home.” She's holding the phone and Louis offers to take it. She hands it to him and walks out of the room.

“Hey mom.” Louis says.

“Hi Lou.” Her voice is clipped. She's not quite angry, but she's definitely not happy.

“Sorry I forgot to call, I've just been pretty preoccupied.” Harry sniggers next to him and Louis presses his hand to his mouth, though he can't help but smile into the receiver.

“It's okay. But when do you plan on being home?”

“Um,” Louis glances at the clock which reads 2:00 PM, “at 3:30?” The “thirty” comes out as a yelp because Harry licks his palm. Louis glares at him playfully, and Harry grins, as now Louis' removed his hand. _Bastard_ , Louis mouths, and Harry's grin only widens.

“You have no idea how difficult it was to track you down! I had to call Zayn who said you'd ridden to the party with Liam and Harry, neither of whom I have the phone numbers of-” Harry's hand rests on Louis' mid thigh, “and I actually had to dig out a phone book- _a phone book, Louis_ ,” Harry's hand has now trailed it's way up to the waistband of the sweatpants Louis borrowed (about three sizes too big) “It's the twenty-first century! And I had to use a _phone book_ to find my own son.” Harry's hand has slipped under the waistband of both the pants and Louis' borrowed underwear.

“I'm sorry mom.” Louis says, trying to sound like he's actually paying attention. He shoots a glare at Harry, but Harry just smiles, eyes sparkling, as he wraps his fingers around the base of Louis' cock.

“Well you better be! It was a lot of trouble to go through and- Louis, are you okay?” Louis had accidentally let out a small whimper as Harry moved his hand up Louis' length.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just a weird hiccup. I have to go now, Harry's mom needs the phone.”

“Alright, 3:30?”

“Yup.” Louis answers, anything longer would have surely gone wrong, what with the way Harry's touching him. He hangs up without saying goodbye.

“What a _touching_ phone call.” Harry jokes.

“I think I might have just gone soft from how bad of a joke that was.” Louis rolls his eyes (initially from humor, but then Harry did something right and it was more from pleasure.)

“Doesn't feel like it to me.” Harry grins. He's right- _fuck_ Louis is turned on, and when Harry's lips form his next question Louis thinks he might come just from relief that he'd asked.

“Can I continue what I'd started earlier?”

Louis lets out a breathy _please_ and helps Harry tug his pants and boxers down to his ankles. Harry kneels on the floor while Louis remains on the bed. Louis' cock is now up against his stomach, and Harry is moving too _slow._ He begins to move his head closer to Louis' crotch, and Louis can practically hear his thoughts. No on moves this slow

“Please, Harry, don't tease.” Louis practically begs- screw the practically, if Harry weren't the one on his knees Louis would probably grovel on his own if it meant Harry would just take his god damn cock in hi- _oh_. _Shit. Fuck_. Louis tries to collect his thoughts, but they combusted the second Harry wrapped his lips around Louis' length. Louis didn't think Harry would actually _comply._ But he is. Oh my god is he ever.

One hand wraps around the base, where he couldn't get his mouth and pumps quickly. Louis knows he's not going to last very long, but really that's okay with him right now. He wants to return the favor. Harry's tongue is doing _something_ amazing, to be honest Louis is focusing on what he's feeling, and not the semantics of it all.

“Fuck, _Harry_.” He whimpers, and Harry looks up at him. He keeps eye contact as he swallows, Louis' dick hitting the back of his throat. Harry's eyes water but he doesn't gag, and Louis' remembers hearing from his mom that squeezing your thumb dilutes your gag reflex. (After telling Zayn this bit of interesting information, their phone call ended rather abruptly after Louis heard Perrie giggle.)

Louis lets out a low groan as Harry swallows again, the feeling pure _magic_. And then he's in a state of euphoria too immense to even begin to describe, and then Harry does something utterly awful, in the sense that the action is full of awe, not like it was _bad,_ and Louis is pretty sure his hips are thrusting upward, because that what it looks like. But he's only sort of sure because his brain isn't really focused on how hot Harry looks being fucked in the mouth, even though some conscious part of him makes a mental note to picture that later. One of his hands is clapped over his mouth and the other is twisted in Harry's curls and his muffled moans are all of Harry's name and _fuck_ and Harry's swallowing every drop of Louis' pleasure incarnate and no amount of run-on sentences can even begin to replicate the racing sluggishness of Louis' thoughts.

Louis collapses back onto the bed, and Harry removes his mouth.

“Was that okay?” Harry asks. His voice is hoarse and if Louis even _tries_ to think about why that is he might just come again.

Harry seems to take Louis' labored breathing and lack of response to be a hell _yes,_ and he grins. He reaches for a water bottle on his bedside table and takes a swig.

Louis pulls up what he guesses are now his boxers, and the sweatpants Harry lent him. He stands up slowly, but his vision still clouds. His ears feel like he's wearing earmuffs. _Fuck_ he hasn't come like that in a long time.

“Need a sip?” Harry offers, holding the water bottle out and Louis takes it.

“Thank you.” He finally manages.

“It's no problem, I rather enjoyed that.” Harry grins.

“I meant for the water you dick.” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Yup, says the man who's legs are still shaking.” Harry _giggles_ and Louis think _no, do no do that or I might fall in love with you_ but of course Harry is still giggling and if he giggles once a day for a month- tops- Louis' probably going to marry Harry's throat, because he loves everything it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think in the comments! I'm going to keep the title as is for now, unless I find something I'm just absolutely in love with. I might name a one shot Like that of Lovers, I've been writing one instead of taking notes in drivers ed :/
> 
> if you wanted to know:  
> my tumblr is liouis.tumbr.com  
> my twitter is zerrries


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!

 

  
  


A few minutes later, Louis' heart rate is pretty much normal and his hands have stopped shaking. He and Harry have been sat on his bed, just talking about mundane things. Louis rather likes the sound of Harry's voice and his laugh. He could probably get lost in it, if it wasn't all so new and wonderful and _lovely_. (Louis vaguely remembers making some decision upon the world lovely.)

When did he become such a sap?

“So, how about those skateboarding lessons?” Harry asks, and Louis glances at the clock. 2:30, an hour until he has to be home.

“Right now?” Louis questions.

“Yeah, why not?” Harry replies. Louis shrugs and stands up, “C'mon then.” Harry follows him and Louis tries not to think about what just happened as they walk by his mom.

“Where are you headed?” She asks, looking up from her book.

“Louis is a really good skateboarder, and he's going to teach me how.” Harry tells her, finding his shoes at the door. Louis doesn't remember taking his off, but then again he doesn't remember much from last night. He'll have to ask Harry later. Harry sits on the floor and laces his sneakers onto his feet, and Louis has to wonder how in the _world_ this boy is quarterback. He seems like he has extra limbs and he's always tripping over them and tying himself in knots. He's really very clumsy, but then on the field he's almost _graceful_ as odd as that sounds. But now, long arms lacing through longer legs to get to his ridiculous sized feet, he's anything but. Louis sits down next to him and laces his black converse up.

About ten minutes into the impromptu lesson and after innumerable falls from Harry, Harry sits down on the curb and says, “You know, I've always learned best by watching.”

Louis' answer blurbs to his lips before he can stop it, “Probably why you're so good at blowjobs.” And for a moment he wonders if he's allowed to say that, like, they aren't dating obviously, but is that too-?

But Harry snorts and laughs a little, and Louis relaxes. Alright. Cool. Good reaction.

And so after a while of skateboarding and Harry making the appropriate ooh's and aah's at the correct times, Louis really does have to get home. He doesn't have any stuff, he left it in Liam's car by accident (look who's not doing his weekend homework, as if he was going to anyway), and so he decides to skateboard home.

“Tell your mom I said thank you.” Louis instructs and Harry stands up from his (rather-uncomfortable looking, damn long legs again) folded position on the curb. Louis wonders if he's going to kiss him goodbye- but, no, they probably don't do that. He's right and Harry doesn't, only smiles and assures Louis he'll convey the message, and then Louis kicks off toward home.

It's not too long to his house, twenty minutes or so, and he decides he's not in the mood for tricks, just rolling along. The trees are still pretty green, a few yellowing here and there, but not enough to even call them faded.

He reaches his house and walks in. The noise level isn't where it should be- it's still pretty loud but Fizzy's Saturday at home noises are missing, and she must be at a friend's house.

He's excited to take a nap and probably wake up at 1 AM but then he remembers the homecoming dance is tonight and Lottie's going and therefore he's going to _have_ make sure boys keep their grubby little hands and groins _away_ from his sister. He's been to pah-lenty of school dances and it's not the most sightly thing.

He's sure he has a dress shirt and pants somewhere, he'll figure it out, but for now, he's going to take himself up on that nap.

Barely muttering a hello to his mother on the way into his room, he collapses into his bed and falls asleep almost instantly.

  
  


Louis' awoken to his door slamming open and a loud bellowing voice. A particularly loud voice that usually soft-spoken, timid Zayn seems to only reserve for Louis. Damn him.

“Wakey wakey!” Zayn is yelling and Louis is groaning and trying to get his body clock in order and his dreams back behind his eyelids. Suddenly Zayn starts jumping on his bed.

“Girls, come help me wake your brother up!” Zayn shouts into the house. Sometimes Louis thinks Zayn only comes over to see his sisters. He has sisters of his own, can't he leave Louis' out of the situation?  
There's trampling feet, the twins', and soon Zayn, Phoebe, and Daisy are bouncing on his bed.

“I'm up! I'm up!” Louis shouts and the jumping slows and stops. He rubs his fists in his eyes to get the crustiness out.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Zayn grins, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“It's six PM.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Zayn says, and sits down. The girls are now uninterested and scamper out of his room. Louis gets up, stretches, fixes the over-sized sweatpants and-

“Are those new pants?” Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. Shitty fucks, and every other variation. Louis' not good at lying right after naps.

“No, they're Harry's.” Zayn is his best friend, and he thinks Zayn will be at least mostly okay with Louis being gay. If he doesn't _have_ to tell him now, that's cool, but if he does then he supposes he will.

“Harri's? Did you do more stuff with her? Her pants are _not_ that big.” Zayn says, confused. Louis closes his bed room door and sits on the bed.

“Not that Harri.”

“Then... Styles? Why are you wearing Styles' pants?”

Now Louis has three options. Complete lie, half truth, completely truth. He can't even think of a logical complete lie, so that's out. Half truth would be telling Zayn he was drunk and Harry let him stay at his house (pretty unbelievable, everyone knows Harry only lets girls spend the night), or what actually happened.

His body has it's own plans though, and all of a sudden Louis' crying, biting into his fist and Zayn's face has gone white and concerned. He moves to hug Louis, but Louis pulls away. He doesn't know where this emotion is coming from, but he knows that his lungs are taking in air to say something and he knows what that thing is going to be, and if Zayn were hugging him when he said it, Louis doesn't think he could handle the recoil that would come.

The words make their way into his mouth and he clenches his teeth.

“Louis, what's wrong?” Zayn has been asking repeatedly, “I'm sorry for waking you up I can leave.”

That makes Louis laugh a little bit, which unclenches his jaw, which lets the words out.

“I'm gay, Zayn.”

And he expects Zayn to get off his bed or go silent or recoil or something, but he just smiles.

“Why are you smiling?” Louis sniffs. God, he needs to do something cool soon, he's been crying and being generally sappy far too much lately.

“'Cause you finally told me.”

Louis wants to argue that he'd only known for a few days himself, but that can wait until later, so he just hugs Zayn for a minute instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you think in the comments! Also, I posted a one shot, so if you wanna read that too that'd be really cool


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Haz,” Louis starts, and his own heart flutters when he sees Harry's eyes widen the littlest bit at the nickname, “I know how to make you moan just by tugging your hair in the right way, but I don't know your favorite color or your favorite movie or what kind of coffee you get at Dunkin Donuts or your shoe size and those are the types of things I'd really really like to know about you.”
> 
> Harry smiles, “Green, Love Actually, black, 10.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took kind of long again, hopefully I'll be getting back into the swing of things. If not I'll most likely post once a week, and maybe acquire some betas to look over for mistakes and such.
> 
> i just couldnt take the irish out of niall.

 

  
  


 

Once Louis' face is all dried and he pulls away from Zayn's hug, Zayn asks, “So, why are you wearing Styles' pants again?”

 

“I stayed the night at his house and then took a shower and needed some clean clothes...” Louis mumbles.

 

“You stayed the night at Harry's- does that mean-?”

 

“No we didn't, uh, yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Not last night.” Louis adds and a grin as he sees Zayn's eyes go wide.

 

“Holy shit, is he-?”

 

“Gay? Well, that's to be determined.” Louis zays.

 

“Dude, stop being so cryptic and just give me the story straight.” Zayn encourages. Louis starts at the beginning, how the night Zayn and Perrie got together, Louis received his first blow job on the balcony of Liam's house, and he ends where they are now: Louis in Harry's sweatpants and t-shirt.

 

“Why did you never tell me?” Zayn asks. He looks mildly hurt, and Louis _knows_ his answer is only going to make it worse.

 

“I thought you were going to hate me.” He whispers, and Zayn's eyebrows knit together.

 

“I'd never hate you. You're my best friend.” He says.

 

“I know. I should have had more confidence in you. I was just- really confused and scared. I'm sorry.” Louis says, looking down at his hands in his lap.

 

“You don't have to be sorry!” Zayn laughs, “Why don't we get ready for homecoming and have a good night instead of all this serious talk.”

 

Louis smiles and nods. Maybe things will be normal after all.

 

  
  


 

Three weeks pass with no abnormalities other than the occasional “meet me in the bathroom – H” texts he'll receive at any part of the day. Louis always asks why he signs – H because Louis has his contact its not like hes begin cryptic, but Harry's always kissing him before he can answer.

 

It's during one of these particular instances, when they pull away for a moment of air, Louis asks the question.

 

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me, or something, sometime. Maybe. If you want.”

 

The kissing mood visibly fades from Harry's green eyes and Louis' heart sinks. Oh. Okay.

 

“I, uh, why?” Harry asks.

 

Louis sighs, “Never mind. It was stupid, forget it.”

 

“Wait, Lou,” Louis' heart flutters, Harry called him a nickname. That _totally_ means something, right? But then he remembers what the conversation is they're having, or, rather, not having.

 

Louis pauses, he'd been turning to leave.

 

“I do want to. I want to go on an actual date with you. I'm just wondering why you want to go on a date with me.” Harry says. His cheeks are flushing and oh _shit_ really, Harry needs to stop blushing because it really is Louis' weakness.

 

“Haz,” Louis starts, and his own heart flutters when he sees Harry's eyes widen the littlest bit at the nickname, “I know how to make you moan just by tugging your hair in the right way, but I don't know your favorite color or your favorite movie or what kind of coffee you get at Dunkin Donuts or your shoe size and those are the types of things I'd really really like to know about you.”

 

Harry smiles, “Green, Love Actually, black, 10.”

 

“That doesn't get you out of the date.” Louis grins.

 

“Didn't want it to.” He replies, and Louis decides he want to kiss him again, and so he does, and then goes back to math class.

 

Louis actually _focuses_ in class. Which is weird. And the teacher calls on him to answer something, expecting the usual wise-ass, snarky answer to cover up the fact he wasn't listening, but he actually knows the answer and he's actually taking _notes_. And then when the teacher gives a pop quiz on what they just learned, Louis gets a _100_ , a grade he hasn't gotten since like freshman year.

 

And then last block is history and he pays attention and when the teacher gives them time to start their homework he actually does and he _finishes_ it. Who is he?

 

The afternoon announcements start on the intercom, after stuff about the football game this Saturday, PSATs for sophomores will be on October 16th, and then, “Auditions for the school's production of _Grease_ have been rescheduled for this Friday. The audition song will be emailed to the entire student body, due to the time constraint. Sign up to audition by the end of the day on Thursday.”

 

Louis receives a text a minute later.

 

_Are you gonna audition? You should. -H_

 

_I don't think so ! Maybe next year ? :)_

 

_You told me you've said the same thing every year! C'mon, you gotta do it! -H_

 

_Maybe .._

 

_I'll audition too, if that will make you feel better. -H_

 

_You've got yourself a deal !_

 

The bell rings then, and Louis slides his phone into his pocket. He slings his bag onto his shoulders, and grabs his pencil from his desk. The sign up will be on a bulletin board just before the exit/ entrance of the school, and so on his way to his bus, he stops at the sign up and scrawls his name just under the neatly printed “Harry Styles”. He smiles to himself and decides he likes the way Harry loops his 'y's.

 

There's no football practice today- thank god- Coach Murphy has a meeting or something stupid like that, not that Louis minds too much. But he will miss looking at Harry's butt in those tight football pants, and the showers after. Yeah, he likes the showers after a _lot_. But he won't miss getting tackled or being forced to attempt kicking the football (its not even a fucking _ball_ what kind of a sport _is_ this?) between the goal posts (that's what they're called, right? Oh fuck it who cares) or doing the foul smelling laundry after.

 

He sits down in an empty seat in the back of the bus, and the rest of the vehicle fills up quickly. Someone sits down next to him, and he's startled out of his thoughts of Harry's cute little ass in those tight spandex pants.

 

“Hey mate.” Niall Horan was an Irish exchange student who came to Louis' school in eighth grade, and was supposed to leave before freshman year. Louis really wishes he had, he's not that fond of him.

 

“Hey.” Louis says, nodding curtly. He can't say he has a specific dislike of the guy- he's just. Yeah. Louis doesn't like him. He's going to be one of those boys in college- in a fraternity, drinking, partying, lots and lots of sex. He's going out with Lacey Collins, the most lusted after girl in school (thank god Louis doesn't have to delude himself about that anymore) and he's quite loud and sort of obnoxious. You hear him before you see him.

 

“So I saw you signed up for Grease, I did too. I reckon I'd make a good Danny Zuko, meself.” Meself. _Meself_. That's not a fucking _word,_ you Irish idiot.

 

“Oh, yeah me too.” Louis says instead of insulting him.

 

“Really? Thanks!”

 

“No, I meant me. I'd make a good Danny.” Louis says. Niall gives him a once over.

 

“Oh, I don't see it.” He shrugs, “Anyway, what happened to you at Payno's party? Was lookin' for ya 'cause I'd heard you smoke pot and I wanted to know if you had any on you.”

 

“I left, and I don't deal.”

 

“Ya should, 'sgood for makin' money.”

 

“I'm actually going to quit soon, anyway. Cigarettes first, then weed.” Louis shrugs. He really wasn't. He just wants to spite the blonde asshole. Really, Louis, he's not that bad. Just a little honest. Maybe too honest. But, honesty is honesty, and it's a quality Louis doesn't have.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if yo wanted to know:  
> my tumblr is liouis  
> my twttier is zerrries
> 
> tell me what you think of the story so far in the comments! Love ya!  
> (ALSO I HIT 200 KUDOS AND 3K READS WOW WOW WOW THANK YOU)


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT AND POOPY I'M SO SORRY

 

  
  


 

When Louis gets home, the first thing he does is collapse onto his bed (that's a lie, he grabs a bag of Cheetos and _then_ collapses on his bed.)

 

Harry had texted him _three times_ while he was on the bus, but Niall was more than a little nosy (“Hey mate whatcha listenin' ta?” “Your pockets are sticking out.” “How'dya get your hair to do the uppy thing?”) and so he couldn't reply for fear of Niall taking his phone and reading the texts prior to it. There wasn't anything bad, specifically. But. Those were _Louis'_ texts to and from _Harry_ , Niall does not get to see them.

 

Mostly, Louis just wants to keep the way Harry calls him “Lou” to himself. No one really calls him Lou. Zayn does, on occasion, which is fine. But Harry says it- and there's so much _fond_ in the word. Like “Lou” is now in the thesaurus under “fond”. And, so is Haz.

 

He opens the texts now.

 

_On the bus behind you, can see your feet. -H_

 

_They're rather small. -H_

 

_I don't like Niall. Usually I do. But I was rather enjoying my view of your tiny wee footies. -H_

 

What kind of a boy, _quarterback_ , is he?

 

He starts typing a response, deletes it, rewrites it, before finally settling on the incredibly witty, entirely phenomenal response of:

 

_haha :) x_

 

He sends it before he realizes how _stupid_ that is, and types in a panic as the “delivered” changes to “read 2:37 PM”, but Harry seems to be better with his fingers (he chooses to ignore his own thought) and a message pops up

 

_You are so bad at taking compliments. -H_

 

_How so ? that wasn't even really a compliment ?_

 

_True, but you're bad at taking compliments. -H_

 

_When have you complimented me ?_

 

_Plenty of times. You just weren't listening. -H_

 

_I'm blatantly changing the subject now, so about that date.._

 

_I'm free tonight. -H_

 

_A bit eager, are we Styles ?_

 

Harry doesn't reply, and Louis can picture his face turning some different shades of pink as his emotions range from indignation to slight anger to embarrassment. Louis wonders how he's able to picture these only slightly different colors of Harry's cheeks after only, you know, _interacting_ with him for a few weeks. 

 

He supposes in the two and a half years he spent convincing himself he wasn't thinking about Harry, he actually was. He remembers that time in English in sophomore year, when Harry had to read a part in some play, and every time he addressed one of the other characters, named Louis, Louis' heart would quicken the teensiest bit.

 

Louis has only begun his trip down Repressed Memory Lane, when Lottie barges into his room.

 

“I could have been naked.” Louis says as a greeting.

 

“That you could've, and I'm thanking my lucky stars you're not.” She says, plopping down on his bed. Louis is silent, and she gives no sign of leaving, so he sighs, puts down his phone (apparently he'd been rereading the conversation he and Harry had had the other day about why it was Louis had not reciprocated the gift of a blow job to Harry, and how that was going to have to be done very soon, Harry had abruptly had to go take a shower.)

 

“What do you want?” He asks, giving in.

 

“I need you to beat up a boy.” She says, and Louis sits up abruptly, brotherly protection pumping through his veins.

 

“Who?” He asks, attentive and ready to punch the shit out of him.

 

“Harry Styles.”

 

Louis' all fired up and ready to beat the shit out of anyone she says, but when the name registers with his mind, he stops.

 

Immediately, Lottie breaks into a huge grin and bursts into peals of laughter, “You should see your face!” She shrieks, and Louis wants to strangle her. He waits out her fit, and finally she calms down enough and stops imitating his apparently hilarious face to speak.

 

“No but really, he's taking up all my brother's thoughts and time.” Lottie says, pouting a little.

 

Louis rolls his eyes, “I'll talk to you or something this weekend, alright?” His phone lights up next to him.

 

“That's him isn't it?”

 

“No.” Louis says, obviously lying, as he opens the text.

 

_What time? -H_

 

_7 alright with you ?_

 

_Sounds fantastic, where are you whisking me off to? -H_

 

Louis really isn't sure this is the same boy who tackles people to the ground and throws footballs long distances and is a manly man. Sort of, sometimes. He does blow dry his hair.

 

_It's a surprise_

 

_You don't know yet, do you? -H_

 

_no clue, to be honest_

 

“Louis, hello?” Lottie's voice filters into his brain.

 

“Hm?” He asks, realizing he has a fucking ridiculous smile painted on his face.

 

She rolls her eyes and gets up to leave, “Never mind, you're a lost cause.”

 

Louis decides if this is being a lost cause, he rather likes it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading i really really love you all  
> tell me any ideas you have for this story? I'm always looking for more, even thought I know the gist of what's gonna go down.


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is a little unorthodox.” Harry murmurs into Louis' mouth.
> 
> “Not much about this is orthodox.” Louis replies, pulling away then, deciding that maybe the date should actually go in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are we already at chapter 14? seems like just yesterday i was debating whether or not to write this because I never finish fics so why bother starting a new one but chapter 14 wow.

 

  
  


 

Why did you wear long sleeves, Louis? Why would you do that to yourself? He's sweating like a fucking pig sitting in the front seat of his mom's minivan. What's there to be nervous about? S'not like you haven't already done more than most people would on a fourth date, never mind a first.

 

But what if in the process of getting to actually _know_ each other, Harry decides he doesn't really like Louis. That it was just a crush and now knowing his actual personality is not as appealing. Louis pulled over a few houses away from Harry's house, per Harry's instructions, because he's not quite ready to tell his mom he's going on a date with a boy (Louis doesn't blame him, he told his mom he was going out with Zayn to the skate park.) He texted Harry about a minute ago to let him know he was here, and _god_ he's nervous. They're going bowling a couple towns over, so they don't have to worry about people they know seeing them and questioning. God. What would they even say? Louis supposes he should come up with an emergency excuse. Team building? Team building. Team building works.

 

The passenger door opens and Louis jumps, a hand slapping over his head like he usually does when he's startled.

 

“Oh god I'm sorry I didn't me to scare you.” Harry says at the same time as Louis squeals a little. He fucking squealed. There's a beat of silence, and Louis claps his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. What the fuck kind of sound was that?

 

And then Harry breaks into a huge grin and flops down into the car and starts laughing, cute, giggle-like laughs that make the butterflies in Louis stomach go into mating season. Louis finds himself laughing too, little bursts of laughter making their way through his lips and into the air. He thinks Harry might be laughing a little harder than necessary, considering it's at Louis' suspense, but, that's okay, because Harry's laugh is one of the best things Louis' ever heard.

 

“Y-You're,” Harry's trying to say something through his laughter, and Louis thinks there might actually be tears on his face. Jesus christ, it wasn't _that_ ridiculous of a noise, was it?

 

“You're so cute!” Harry manages between little gasps and hiccups of giggles, and Louis' heart freezes in his chest. His face burns, and he's glad it's dark in the car because he's sure he's bright red.

 

Harry's finally beginning to sober, and he looks up at Louis with eyes that somehow manage to fucking twinkle with minimal light. He'd slouched in the passenger seat when he was laughing, and now he sits up and connects his lips with Louis. Briefly. Chaste. A little too short and sweet for Louis' liking, so when Harry begins to pull away, Louis follows so he never loses contact.

 

“This is a little unorthodox.” Harry murmurs into Louis' mouth.

 

“Not much about this is orthodox.” Louis replies, pulling away then, deciding that maybe the date should actually go in order.

 

“You're telling me, my mom gave me a condom and told me not to impregnate anyone and I had to run out of the house because I almost started laughing.” Harry says, fishing in his back pocket and pulling out the packet. Louis gulps and he's silent for a moment too long, before forcing out a little laugh and pushing thoughts of sex with Harry away.

 

“So, anyway, I brought some CDs for the car ride.” Harry says, picking two CD cases up from the floor of the car where they fell during his laugh attack. Louis looks at the artists.

 

“Never heard of 'em.” He says. The 1975 and the Arctic Monkeys. What names.

 

Harry looks like he's been personally insulted. He opens one of the CDs and tries to shove it in the slot.

 

“Turn on the damn car so I can musically educate you.” Harry says harshly. Louis laughs and turns the key in the ignition. Harry gets the CD to play, and a slow beat starts, followed by a guitar. Louis find himself bobbing his head the the pronounced beat, and he starts driving.

 

“Have you got color in your cheeks? D'ya ever get that feel that you can shift the tide that stick around like summat in your teeth. Have some aces up your sleeve. Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week...” Harry is singing along goofily, but Louis thinks if he were to really try, there'd be some potential there.

 

Louis really really _really_ wants to pull over and bite on Harry's neck and grind down into him to this song.

 

Maybe on the way back.

 

Maybe the sexual tension (whether it's actually really there or produced by the band's sound and the condom packet glinting in the cup holder every time they pass under a street lamp mixed with Harry's occasional air guitar) was only being felt by Louis, because Harry looks perfectly comfortable. Louis, on the other hand, is not. The urge to do everything he'd ever fantasized about to Harry right here in his mom's car is so strong. But, right, bowling.

 

Bowling. He has to focus on driving and bowling and holding conversation.

 

The car ride is rather long, the nearest (or rather, nearest far enough away) bowling place was about a 45 minute drive, but they get there with minimal awkward silences, and the awkward is always diminished by the music, which Harry never fails to sing along obnoxiously to.

 

Finally, Louis pulls into the parking lot of the bowling alley.

 

“Ready?” He asks, shutting off the car.

 

“Yup.” Harry smiles, though he looks a little nervous. Going on a date with a boy when you're supposedly straight has got to be nerve wracking. Hell, going on a date with a boy when you're gay is nerve wracking.

 

They get in the building and are immediately greeted by loud music, loud talking, just a whole lot of _loud_. The nervous atmosphere around them lightens, and they walk to the counter to get their shoes.

 

“Jesus christ, Harry, are your feet big enough?” Louis laughs, as the shoe guy brings out their shoes. Size 13. What the fuck. Louis' size 9 ½ seems tiny in comparison. Everything about Louis seems tiny in comparison to Harry. Harry is large enough to fold around Louis and envelope him completely, probably. Louis'd like that, a nice cuddle. They had cuddled, that night after the party a few weeks ago, but Louis would like to be completely conscious.

 

Speaking of which, “Hey, I never did ask. That party after the homecoming game, I remember talking with you, but I don't really remember what about.”

 

Harry's lacing up his shoes, and so he's bent over his knees, but Louis still sees his ears darken.

 

“I, um, don't really remember either.”

 

“Huh.” Louis says, tying the knot on his left shoe, “Alrighty, shall we?” He asks, standing up. Harry does too and they go to their designated lane and start the game.

 

  
  


 

Harry, it turns out, has minimal athletic ability, and was just blessed when it came to football. They end up having to stop playing, because it was mathematically impossible for Harry to win. And now, of course, Louis won't stop gloating.

 

“I cannot _believe,_ for a boy of all your famed, supposed, athletic prowess, you, Harry Edward Styles, _suck_ at _bowling_.” Louis relishes in using his full name, a piece of information he learned tonight.

 

Despite Harry's insulted look, their feet are twined together in the ridiculous looking bowling shoes under the table. Every point of contact feels warmer than the rest of Louis' body.

 

“Enough about my lack of bowling skills!” Harry says, though he's laughing.

 

“What are you going to do about it, hm? Free country, freedom of speech, remember?” Louis teases, blatantly flirting, because he can _do_ that.

 

“I'll shut you up myself.” Harry grins.

 

“And how do you propose to do that?” Louis questions, tilting his head to one side. Harry leans across the table, probably getting ketchup on his plaid button up in the process, and presses his mouth to Louis'.

 

In public.

 

In front of everyone.

 

Harry pulls away the second their lips made contact, his eyes are wide, and Louis' are the same. Harry disentangles his legs from Louis' under the table and clears his throat.

 

“Right.” Louis says, though he's not really sure why. S'just a word.

 

“Hey! Louis! Harry!” A loud voice booms from somewhere in the building. An Irish voice, and Louis' heart sinks. Niall comes bounding up to them and pulls up a chair.

 

“Um, hi.” Harry says, looking panicked. Louis is panicked. Harry is panicked. So much panic. Why isn't the whole world panicked. Louis feels like the world is crumbling, everyone should be panicked. Why isn't Niall panicked. Why is he just grinning? Oh god Louis might throw up.

 

“So I'm here with me mum for her birthday and I look over and I saw you two bowling and so then I tell my brother, Greg, about the time in freshman year I saw the curly lad giving the shorter one a blow job at a party and now it looks like they're on a date which is super cool because I've been rooting for them for a while now and he looks at me like I'm crazy and then he told me I was crazy to which I said-” Niall continues to ramble but Louis' ears have stopped working. He turns to Harry who's eyes have gone wider than Louis thought possible.

 

“You saw _what_?” Louis asks, interrupting Niall.

 

“I saw you bowling and then kiss just now.” Niall says.

 

“No, before that.” Harry urges. He sounds choked.

 

“What d'ya mean?”

 

“You saw me- with Lou, that time...?”

 

“Yup. Of course only briefly, I walked away 'cause I didn't want to, like, be nosy, but yeah I saw it. But really I just came over here to wish you guys the best of luck.” Niall starts to get up then, and Louis manages a 'thank you' through his shock.

 

Louis turns to Harry then, eyes wide and heart pounding.

 

“You wanna get out of here?” Harry asks. Louis just nods, completely dumbstruck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important chapter  
> I used they and them and it's pretty significant.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is only 666 words im sorry its so short ive been writing a one shot and my laptop is semi-broken so its been difficult to write  
> hopefully the next chapter will be longer :)

 

  
  


And so yeah, Louis might be floating on air a little bit, and so yeah Zayn is sitting on his couch with his mom who looks _incredibly_ angry, but he just went on a date with Harry and Harry kissed him and he kissed Harry and there was a whole lot of car kissing before Harry finally managed to pull himself away.

But. So yeah. His mom. Zayn. Couch. Angry.

Fuck.

“Uh, hi.” He says intelligently. Fuck. Shit fuck shit.

“Why don't you sit down.” His mom says, gesturing to the couch. Louis sits down, his stomach churning. He should have told Zayn what he was doing, why the fuck didn't he tell Zayn what he was doing? He's not ready for this _so_ not ready for this, Harry's not ready for this, _no one_ is ready for this.

Lottie walks out from her room, holding a bowl that looks like it used to have mac and cheese in it, and she sees the scene. He did tell Lottie.

“Mom-”

“Louis William Tomlinson, I raised you better than to lie to your mother.” She cuts him off.

“Mom, I-”

“No, no excuses. Just tell me where you actually were.”

Silence.

What could he possibly tell her? _Oh, right, mom sorry I was a few towns over bowling and kissing a guy I really really like but I can't tell you that because it would mean coming out to you and I don't think I'm ready for that at all._

“Well?”

“Mom, I can't.”

He expects her to be angry, fully and completely expects her to yell or ground him or take his phone and read his texts or something. What he does _not_ expect, is her to break down crying. He does not expect it when she moves from her seat to closer to him, and holds him tight while she sobs into his neck.

He looks at Lottie, who looks just as confused as he feels.

“Baby, I know. I just want you to tell me, please Boobear, I already know.”

Louis' eyes flick to Zayn then, and Zayn looks as lost as he and Lottie.

“You know what?”

  
  


Louis has this drawer in his room, it's in his nightstand, second one down. He doesn't open it much anymore, can't bear to read what he's written and stuffed in there.

Some of it's song lyrics- either lyrics he'd liked or ones he'd written. Some of it's just scribbles and ramblings. Most of it's letters to Harry. All written between May 15th freshman year, and about a month ago. The most recent one was written the day he realized he was gay.

This is going too _fast_. Isn't he supposed to have this secret for a long time and let it out in some big emotional thing where he sits the family down and cries while he says it? Isn't that how it's supposed to work? His mother was _not_ supposed to have been looking for a condom (dear lord in heaven) in his room and stumbled across the drawer filled with his deepest secret and read every single thing in it.

His mom's still crying and hugging him while she tells the story. Zayn looks uncomfortable. Lottie is eating some ice cream while looking uncomfortable. Louis is super uncomfortable.

“Um, Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can you let go now?

She moves away, rubbing her cheeks with the heels of her palms. Louis thinks he should probably say something reassuring, like, but all he can see is her crying and she looks so disappointed and she's _sad._ She's sad because he's gay. He made his mother sad.

So he doesn't say anything, just stands up, pushes past Lottie in the hallway, and closes the door to his room gently.

He's glad no one follows him. Glad when he hears the sounds of Zayn leaving and he thinks Lottie might be reprimanding his mother, which is weird. But.

He falls asleep with a wet pillow and tight cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading cuties! (4K+ WTF HOW??)


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!!! I finally finished the two one shots I've been working on ("give the bruises out like gifts" and "i dissolve and break and then away i crawl" please read!)

 

  
  


Louis wakes up and his room is far too bright. 6:47 is never this brightly lit. And of course, his phone his dead. Which is why his alarm didn't go off.

But even so, his mom wakes up-

Right.

His mom.

Last night.

She probably realized he wasn't awake and thought it was because of last night, though, honestly had his alarm gone off he would have shut it off.

He sighs, plugs in his phone and waits for it to turn on. He tries to keep his thoughts about last night from his mind while he waits. Finally the lock screen shows up, and he sees he has two texts.

_I had a lot of fun tonight. -H_

The first one was sent at 10 PM last night, and the second at 8:45 this morning,

_I hope you're not sick! Feel better. :* -H._

He sends a quick text back, _Im alright , phone died and my alarm didnt go off_

The reply is almost immediate, and it makes Louis smile, and then what the reply actually says makes his stomach flip. _I was kinda hoping you were sick so I could come over and make you feel better ;) -H_

There's a _winky face_ there. That means implied sexual pleasure doesn't it? Not like lotiony tissues and naps but the kind of feel better that _really_ feels better. And then

_*:) oh god that sounded sexual I meant like make you soup and watch rom coms_

He forgets the -H, which Louis finds endearing, like he's that flustered. As if they hadn't done plenty of sexual things.

_But, you know, we could ;) too -H_

Louis actually lets out a bark of laughter, looking at the screen fondly. Winky face is now a verb.

_I'd take you up on your offer , but I do believe soup and rom coms sounded so wonderful I just came down with a case of the sniffles ._

_I'll be over in 20. :) -H_

_Okeydokey (:_

  
  


When Harry arrives at his house, the first thing out of his mouth is, “Louis William Tomlinson, I never had you pegged as a _backward smiley face_ user. I am appalled.” And then he looks around Louis to see his mom sitting on the couch, “Oh, hi there Mrs. Tomlinson.”

Johanna's eyes sweep up Harry's tall frame, Louis can see her linger where Harry's low necked white shirt allows for the tips of the swallow tattoos to show. His mom's pretty cool and all, for a mom, but she's not a huge fan of tattoos. Which sucks for her, because they're really growing on Louis.

Harry's a pretty observant person, so it's doubtful that he doesn't notice her curt gaze, but if he does he doesn't show it.

“Are you the one who's making my son lie to me?”

Harry's friendly smile drops, and his eyebrows knit together, “What?”

Louis sighs, “She went through my stuff, she knows about-”

“So you are Harry, then?” She interrupts

“Yes ma'am.” Harry nods. Usually being called “ma'am” is respectful and parents like you for it, but Louis knows his mom, because they're pretty similar, and if she has an opinion on someone everything they do validates it further. She'll peg his formality down to sucking ass or think he's calling her old. And it probably doesn't help that Harry's skipping school for this. Louis wonders how he even got there, he can't drive.

“And for the record, I'm not making Louis do anything.” Harry says. _Oo, kitty got claws._ Louis thinks, and it turns out he muttered it because his mother looks appalled and Harry looks rather amused, and maybe slightly turned on? Should Louis call him Kitty? Is that too kinky? Is that weird? The idea doesn't sound bad, if he's honest. Maybe sometime in the future.

“Mom, I know you don't like the fact that I'm gay, but you're going to have to deal with it, alright?”

Johanna blanches, “W-What? Honey, oh god, don't think that! I don't have a problem with you, as Lottie put it, 'liking dick'.” Louis pales, this just got more painful, “I'm just upset you had to lie to me about it.”

Harry's biting on his fist and his shoulders are shaking from trying not to laugh. For once in his life, Louis is speechless.

“Okay.”

His mom looks emotional, and Louis really doesn't want to go through that again, so he grabs Harry's wrist and pulls him into his room.

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Tomlinson!” He calls, before Louis closes the door. “You're mother is a very nice lady.”

“Eh.” Louis shrugs.

“Hey, be nice to your mother.” Harry chides, and Louis punches him lightly on the arm.

“Twat.” Louis mutters.

“Twat?” Harry looks confused.

“Oh, god, I watch too much Netflix when I'm avoiding homework.” Louis says, blushing a bit.

“You used to be so grade conscientious, why'd you stop?” Harry asks, sitting at the chair in front of Louis' unused desk. Louis shrugs, “I have other things on my mind.” He sits on his bed.

“So, what movies do you have?” Harry asks, changing the subject when he senses he's not going to get anymore information out of Louis.

“Let's look and see.” Louis says, getting up and dropping to the floor. He reaches under his bed and slides out a box, choc full of DVDs.

“That's quite the collection, this is going to be infinitely better than calculus.” Harry says, thumbing through a few of them.

“Which reminds me, how did you even get here?” Louis asks.

Harry laughs a bit, “Gemma drove me, she always wanted me to act out a little bit, be a little reckless and stupid. Says I'm a goody two shoes.”

Louis stays silent for a moment, and then a slow smile spreads on his face. He grabs Harry's hand, stopping his fingers from filing through the DVD cases. Harry looks up at him, round green eyes searching Louis' blue mischievous ones.

“Then lets go do something reckless and stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna start updating only on Mondays, but I'm not sure. It seems to be working out that way anyway, and I ahve so many one shot ideas so that gives me the week to work on them, but I'm not sure yet.  
> Thank you all for 5k reads thats insane i love you so so much!!


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ones late! I took a nap yesterday soo yeah  
> I HAVE IDEAS FOR THE NEXT CHAPTERS ISNT THAT WONDERFUL?  
> Also, that beautiful person who offered to be my beta, I have lost your url! please message me again?

 

  
  


Twenty minutes later, Louis and Harry are both on skateboards (Harry is holding onto Louis' shoulder for guidance and support.)

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, wobbling a bit. Louis' trying to go slow, he hasn't gone this slow on a skateboard in a long, long time. But Harry's not very balanced, and Louis' not surprised. Top heavy and all with those curls.

“Surfing.” Louis answers, throwing Harry a grin over his shoulder. Harry looks confused, but doesn't question it, mostly because he's too busy not falling over to think about too much else.

Now Louis' not stupid, they're not going to do this on a highway or a busy road of any kind, just a road that's busy enough. Hopefully the prospect of getting hit by a car will make Harry a better skateboarder, though.

Is this a bad idea?

Probably.

Does Louis care?

A little. Maybe. For Harry.

Harry keeps his hand on Louis' shoulder as they roll, but he's starting to get steadier.

“You think you could let go? Try on your own?” Louis asks. Panic flashes in Harry's eyes and Louis pretends he hadn't noticed or found it endearing.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harry nods, and Louis slows to a stop. Harry pries his fingers from Louis' skin (how long had his nails been dug in there? Louis doesn't remember any discomfort.) Harry adjusts his footing and gives a little nod.

“Alright, you remember how I showed you to kick off?” Louis says. Harry nods a little, looking nervous. God he's fucking adorable. Louis is so gone for the way the manly persona Harry puts out is let down around him, completely fucking smitten with the little crease between Harry's brows and how his toes point inward. And there's no cars coming and they aren't in front of anyone's house, so Louis kisses his little nervous frown till he feels it recede.

When he pulls away Harry smiles a little, “Alright, I'm ready. After you.”

“You just want to look at my ass.” Louis teases.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner.” Harry laughs.

“You're such a dork.”

“I happen to be quarterback of the football team. I think it's against the laws of high school for me to be a dork.”

“Yeah, well, it goes against the laws of high school for the resident loser and the quarterback of high school to be boyfriends.”

Shit. _Shit_. You've been on _one_ date Louis! You can't say _boyfriend_ fuck fuck _fuck_.

But then Harry surges forward and captures Louis' lips with his own. It's short, but definitely not sweet, far from chaste really. Harry pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Louis'. Louis' breathing is more labored than it really should be, but considering the fact he just barely evaded hyperventilation, it's alright.

“I don't think you're a loser.” Harry says. His eyes are crossed from trying to look at Louis' and Louis is finding it so _so_ difficult not to kiss him again but they really are going to be seen by someone they know, knowing their luck. 

Louis doesn't reply, but grudgingly moves away from the taller boy.

“C'mon, Curly, let's keep skating.”

(Louis' lack of response does not go unnoticed by Harry, he'll be sure to mention that at a later date.)

Louis kicks off, sure to keep an eye on Harry as he does the same. They roll down the road.

“So, what exactly are we doing?” Harry asks, wobbling as speaking takes up too much of his concentration.

“I just call it surfing, you find a good road and you grab onto the backs of cars and you just ride for a little while, let go, find another car, until you get bored or have a scare and stop.”

“Have a scare as in?”

“Like almost get run over or sharp turn or something.” Louis says.

“And with my less than adequate skateboarding abilities, what are my chances of dying?” Harry asks, wobbling again and grabbing the air for something to hold before finding his balance on his own.

“Well, we could be high, which is when I usually do it, so like slim but slimmer than they could be and also less slim than mine.” Louis answers. Harry loses his balance again, this time grabbing Louis' hand for support.

“Alright then, I trust you.” Harry says after a moment, and instead of pulling his hand away he laces their fingers together. Louis tucks his smile into his shoulder, apparently doing a shitty job of hiding it because Harry's lips curve up too.

“Okay, so explain to me how to surf on a road with a skateboard.” Harry laughs.

“I'm not a very good explainer and I learned by watching...” Louis says, notices Harry's worried looks and continues, “...but if you really need me to I can try.”

“No, no it's alright. If you can't explain like well I might get confused and die and yeah that'd be bad.” Harry looks more nervous than Louis would like him to be.

“Hey.” Louis says, squeezing Harry's hand and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin , “We don't have to. It was just an idea we can go back to my place and watch movies like we planned.”

“No! No I want to, I just worry too much.” Harry says. Louis tucks that somewhere into his brain, _Harry's a worry wart_. 

“Alright, well the road is just up ahead. The cars go pretty slow but you still won't be able to watch for too long, I'll let go and come back a few times.” Louis says. Harry nods. They stop at the end of the nearly empty road, watching the much busier one.

“Okay, so I'm gonna go now. Pay attention.” Louis teases a little, untwisting his fingers from Harry's and giving his hip a pinch.

Louis looks into the line of traffic for a big enough break, he spots one coming up and braces himself to kick off. It's time and he does, fitting between two cars perfectly and grabbing onto the back of the pick up truck in front of him.

 _Fuck_ , he didn't tell Harry that pick ups were the best.

The car behind him honks and he shoots it the finger, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hasn't felt anything like this is so _long_. 

A semi-involuntary _whoop_ bursts from his lips and he's grinning wildly, going so fast and so recklessly is thrilling. His hair is whipping his neck, it stings, but it's fucking _great_. But it's time toget back to Harry. 

Louis looks behind him, checking how close the other car is. A good distance, he should be alright.

He balances on one foot, ready to push himself off the road the second he lets go. He releases his hold and pushes his foot to the right.

Something goes wrong, he's not sure what it is but something goes wrong and his ankle screams in pain. The suddenness of it throws him off balance and he's tumbling and rolling and there's a screech and a car horn.

When he stops moving (he has stopped moving right? His head's kind of spinny) he watches the car that was behind him right itself after swerving. He hears pounding footsteps and feels fingers under his arms, hauling him up.

Harry's there, and it looks like he's yelling? But Louis only hears muffled sounds, like through a pillow or a load of water. Then his head stops reeling and sound isn't going to fast, it snaps into place.

“Louis! Louis are you okay! Louis!” Harry's shouting.

Louis grins, and Harry's answering look is one of horror, and Louis says, “I wanna go again.”

“Lou, you're _bleeding_. We're going to my house because it's closer and you're going to let me take care of you and then we're going to watch a movie and you're going to mourn over your crushed skateboard.”

Louis is snapped from the remnants of his stupor, “My _what_?”

He whips his head around ( _fuck_ , too fast) and sees bits of something in the street, a red black and white something with wheels. 

He thinks he might let out a little whimper (he's still not completely with it, a tumble on pavement at 30 mph is a little jarring) and Harry holds him closer.

“C'mon, my house.” Harry says, holding Louis steady and walking back to where Harry abandoned Louis' spare skateboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont forget to tell me what you think so far!


	18. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating early because im on a writing kick!

 

  
  


Harry is in an all-business mood. He won't even crack a smile at Louis' jokes.

“C'mon, Haz, I'm alright! It was just a tumble.”

“Louis. You're bleeding. Your blood is meant to stay inside your body, not flowing into your mouth. Where is it even coming from?” Louis' been spitting blood-tinged saliva for a few minutes as they walk.

“I'm not really sure, think my tooth might've nicked my lip.” Louis says, feeling around with his tongue, then grinning cheekily, “Wanna kiss it better?”

Harry does smile a little then, but rolls his eyes, “Maybe once you don't have blood all over your teeth.”

“Hey, alright, so I like to get concussions from the ground, you like them from sweaty men in tight pants.”

“Do you think you have a concussion?” Harry asks, completely ignoring the part where Louis _insulted_ him. That was _not_ meant to be over looked, thank you very much.

“No.” Louis answers, _definitely_ not pouting because Harry didn't so much as crack an offended smile at his joke. Louis _lives_ for offending people.

(And making Harry smile.)

Louis finally does manage to get Harry to shut up about his minor injury, asking him about what movies he has (“so what movies do you have?” “We really should have just watched yours, now look at you!” “Harry, seriously, I'm fine.” “You're bleeding.” “I seem to remember discussing this before, now _what movies do you have_? And if you comment again on the fact that I am minorly hurt I will smash my own face into the pavement.”) And as he rattles off the rather long list they finally make it to Harry's house.

Harry pushes open the door, “Hey, Gems!” He calls into the house.

“In the kitchen!” Comes the reply, which is where they were headed anyhow, so Louis trails behind Harry through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi Louis- holy shit, what happened?”

“He smashed his-” Harry starts.

“I took a little spill is all.” Louis cuts him off, rolling his eyes in a look that was meant to look annoyed but probably looked more fond of the worried boy than anything. Harry mirrors him, rolling his own green eyes, and yeah, if Louis' expression looked anything like that there was a load of fond in it.

Gemma makes gagging noises, and Harry shoots her the bird. Louis' a little confused, how much does Gemma know? If she's anything like Lottie is to him, then maybe she knows?

Harry has his back to Louis, wetting a paper towel, folded neatly into a square.

“So maybe next time I can teach you a bit about football?” Harry suggests.

“Isn't he on the team?” Gemma asks.

Harry and Louis both make the same _sort of_ motion, with a grimace on their faces.

Gemma looks from Harry to Louis and from Louis to Harry.

“You two are perfect for each other.” She mutters, turning back to her text book. Harry smiles shyly, and Louis represses his own. His lip does actually hurt.

Harry turns his attention back to Louis (a little part of Louis brain is far too excited by this) and starts wiping a scrape on his forehead down with the dampened paper towel. Harry's tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration and Louis sort of wants to bite it? But Harry's hand is bracing Louis' shoulder to keep him from squirming away.

“Ugh, god, go be overwhelmingly cute somewhere else please.” Gemma groans.

“You don't have to look.” Harry retorts, eyes never leaving their fixed spot on Louis' forehead.

“Well, Hazza, you are rather overwhelmingly cute and I do believe we should give your sister the thinking space she needs. To your room?” Louis says cheekily.

“Off we go.” Harry nods, freeing Louis' forehead from it's treatment.

They walk down the hallway and Gemma calls, “I swear to god if I hear anything I will remove both your dicks and staple them to your foreheads!”

Louis decides he likes Gemma.

  
  


Finally, _finally_ , Harry is done preening over Louis' 'wounds' and he's pushing the _Grease_ DVD into the player (“What better way to prepare for our auditions?”) Louis is fluffing up the pillow Harry gave him to lean against and curling his toes into the fabric of the blanket they're going to share. Harry crawls back to the little cozy blanket and pillow circle they made and curls under the fabric.

Unconsciously, (so consciously) Louis scoots closer to the curly haired boy.

“Heat seeking missile.” Harry remembers, smiling a little.

But, Louis doesn't remember.

“That's what my mom used to call me.” Louis says happily.

“Yeah, I know, you told me.” Harry laughs. Louis pulls his eyebrows together, “When?”

“That night after Liam's party. You sorta woke up? You don't remember?”

Louis shakes his head no.

“What do you remember?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs, “You were making out with some girl and I was drunk and pissed off and then I went to go find Harri, like Phillips, and apologize to her because of the rumor-”

“What rumor?”

“Seriously how were we the only two who didn't hear it?” Louis laughs, “There's a rumor I fingered Harri in the wash room, because of that video...”

“They've seen the video?” Harry's voice rises and octave.

“No, a teacher must have mentioned something to another teacher and someone over heard it is all. No one thinks I fingered you.”

Louis tries not to notice the way Harry shifts and his pupils widen slightly. He wonders if Harry's ever been fingered. Not that Louis had, that is, by someone else.

“Well, that's good then.”

Louis clears his throat, “Yeah.”

They turn back to the movie, the intro over and now thrown into Sandy's first day at Ridell High.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably could just write the next bit into this chapter but I'm gonna make you wait ;)  
> (also so i can read more smut to write fingering properly)


	19. Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter at over 3k words, lets all applaud

 

  
  


Louis and Harry are screaming the lyrics to “You're the One That I Want” when Harry's mom opens the door. They're traipsing around the room (making a wonderful mess of it), stepping on their blanket fort and pillows and bag of chips and Louis seems to be Danny and Harry's Sandy, and what with the height difference it's a little amusing. A lot amusing.

They're in the middle of the song, both unaware of Anne's presence when she finally clears her throat.

Louis' note dies in his throat and Harry doubles over in laughter immediately. Louis' not long behind, giggling and maybe he's only giggling because Harry's giggling, but Harry has a really cute giggle who could blame him?

“So I take it you're staying for dinner?” Anne says, and Louis turns to look at Harry and Harry nods, Louis turns back to Anne and nods as iff she hadn't just seen Harry too.

“Oh, and mom I was thinking maybe he could sleep over too? We'd just go to school together.”

Louis' lungs deflate in the sweetest way.

“Sure, if that's what Louis wants.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Louis says sincerely, and Anne tells them that dinner will be ready in 30 minutes and then closes the door.

By now the end credits of Grease are rolling and Louis is very very happy so he surges forward and kisses Harry. Somewhere along the way the kiss gets heated and Louis is grinding down onto Harry's crotch. (He seems to have forgotten they've only been on one date but fuck it he's been with Harry for 2 and a half years in his head.)

Harry pulls his mouth away desperately, “Tonight tonight tonight.” He breathes, maybe trying to convince himself.

“Alright.” Louis nods, swallowing thickly and trying to calm himself down.

“But, we could still like, kiss.” Harry mumbles and god Louis is so fucking _gone_. He brings their lips together again and they stay like that until they hear Anne call for dinner and the TV screen is blue.

Gemma raises an eyebrow at them when they walk out, lips obviously swollen and red, but doesn't say anything. Anne is either oblivious or just really fucking cool.

The plates are already full and in place at the table, and Louis and Harry sit down next to each other.

“So what do you boys have planned for tonight?” Anne asks after Gemma finishes her story on her research paper she wants to burn her teacher for assigning. Louis blanches for a moment, he's been thinking about what they're going to do tonight for a while at this point, but he can't very well say that can he?

“I'm not sure,” Harry starts, “Maybe play some FIFA, watch another movie, oh! We could practice for our auditions.”

“Oh, Louis, are you auditioning for Grease too?” Anne asks.

“Yeah, I am.” Louis nods, feeling a little self conscious.

“What part?” Gemma asks.

“Danny, if I'm lucky. I'd just like a big part.” Louis shrugs.

“You know, you kind of look like a Kenickie.” Anne says.

“You do.” Gemma adds.

“I think he'd be a great Danny, actually.” Harry says and Louis tries to hold back his blush and goofy smile. Harry brushes his knuckles over Louis' knee under the table and goosebumps raise under his jeans.

“Harry, aren't you auditioning for Danny?” Gemma asks.

Harry shrugs, “Just any part really. I don't care, honestly. I've always like Sonny though.”

“ _Why_ would you like Sonny? He's an idiot.” Louis asks, genuinely concerned for Harry's mental health.

“I like him 'cause he's an idiot. Idiots are my people.” Harry mutters.

“You're telling me.” Louis and Gemma say at the same time. They look at each other and grin, and reach for a fist bump across the table.

“I think I'm hanging out with the wrong Styles.” Louis laughs.

“I'm a lot cooler.” Gemma agrees.

“She is.” Anne laughs.

Harry's jaw opens and shuts indignantly before, “You're right.”

All four of them laugh for a while and then get up to clear their plates. Louis is pretty damn proud of himself for loading the dishwasher nicely, if he does say so himself. Harry, once again, offers to do the dishes that don't go in the dishwasher but is instantly shot down by his mother, who claims they can't afford to lose more plates and that she “honestly doesn't understand how the clumsiest boy in the world won the homecoming game for the first time in 15 years”.

Louis and Gemma both laugh and agree, exchanging stories of Harry tripping over his own feet. Louis almost lets slip a story about when they were bowling and Harry went to throw the ball, but forgot to let go and ended up on the floor flat on his face.

Louis really likes this family, likes their dynamic. They're all so easy with each other, for fuck's sake Harry has like four thousand tattoos and Gemma is _not_ a natural blonde. They seem like best friends, but at the same time Harry and Gemma respect their mother and would never cross her, but it's not like they even want to. Louis' always wanted to rebel against his mom. I mean, he loves her to bits and pieces but she's, well, she's exactly like him: stubborn and opinionated. And he's supposed to be the role model for the girls, something he may have purposely failed at and something his mom probably resents him for.

Everything was a lot more like it is in the Styles' home when Louis was a good student. He kind of misses it, actually trying and getting good grades. It made him happy and his mom happy, and now he's just screwing himself over and making his mom upset, hurting her. Louis doesn't like hurting things, and he remembers his mom's lesson a lot, and maybe he should listen to it more, maybe if he took care of things other people would be taken care of too. Harry does well, does good things and his mom is happy, it seems to be a direct relationship.

Huh.

Well fuck.

Maybe Harry could help him study sometimes.

(If study dates would go like today is going then Louis' probably not going to learn much.)

After a while of Harry pouting and sulking Anne waves all three of them away (because “Louis and Gemma are bickering and we've been over why Harry is no help.”)

Louis walks into Harry's room and Harry's behind him, “My threat still stands.” Gemma mutters, closing her door across the hall. Louis blushes a little as Harry turns to him with a little jocular smile.

Harry closes the door and walks over to the bed, “So you wanna practice for the audition? I opened the email but I haven't read over the song yet.” Harry says. He sounds awkward, and Louis' pretty sure that's not really what he wants to do. Louis sits down on the bed next to him and reaches a hand up to tap two fingers on the side of Harry's jaw, turning his face. Louis ducks in then and kisses him, slowly. Harry gives a little whimper of relief and Louis hears the laptop shut. One of Harry's hands cups the back of Louis' neck and brings him closer. Louis swipes his tongue along Harry's lower lip, and Harry obliges, opening his mouth at the same time he slips his other hand under Louis' t-shirt to nestle in the curve of his back. His thumb rubs circles into the bottom vertebrae and Louis has to break their mouths apart for a moment to draw in air, his breaths already ragged. He moves back in but this time kisses the corner of Harry's jaw. He sucks a light bruise into the skin there, and Harry sighs shakily when he smooths the tip of his tongue across it, and Harry's fingers dig into Louis' back.

Louis thinks he could stay like this for a good long while, he could stay connected to Harry as long as the moon orbits the earth. And Louis knows the moon is actually going to leave someday, but forever is a weighty word.

Louis moves his lips back to Harry's, relishing in their taste and feel.

“Do you know how long I dreamed about things like this?” Harry voices Louis' thoughts.

“I think I do.” Louis answers, more of a breath or a sigh than anything else, before returning his mouth to its rightful place on Harry's.

And it's like 0 to 60 in less than a second, because Harry _picks Louis up and places him in his lap_. Louis never thought he'd like being manhandled, but _fuck_ _,_ apparently he does because his legs are on either side of Harry and he's grinding down. 

Harry moves his lips and mouths along Louis' jawline and then down his neck. His fingers play at the hem off his shirt.

“Off.” He murmurs into Louis' skin. Louis leans away so he doesn't hit Harry in the face, which would probably be a mood killer, and lifts his shirt off. Harry's hands immediately find a hold on Louis' waist and pull him back close. Their lips interlock again, and they stay like that for a while, just enjoying the taste of each other, until Harry begins to palm Louis through his jeans. Louis bats him away, “No, you.” He says, too out of breath to form coherent sentences.

Louis slips his hands under Harry's shirt, and then looks at him quizzically, Harry nods and Louis lifts his shirt off him. His curls fluff down adorably after being lifted by the neck of the t shirt. Louis leans and mouths at the birds on Harry's chest.

“I've always wanted a tattoo.” He murmurs idly, then nips his teeth at the tip of a wing, where it hits Harry's collar bone. He looks up at Harry through his eyelashes in time to see Harry dig his teeth into his pink bottom lip. Louis trails down Harry's torso, mouthing at the milky skin interrupted by black ink, until his fingertips reach the waist of Harry's jeans. Louis looks up for permission and Harry gives a quick nod, looking nervous. Louis works at the button and undoes the zipper, then hooks his thumbs into the denim and pulls down Harry's jeans.

Louis levels his face up with Harry's and kisses him again, licking into his mouth. He feels one of Harry's hands clutch at the back of his neck as he grinds down onto the growing bulge in Harry's boxers. Harry lets out a small, breathy moan and Louis swallows the sound and stores it somewhere in his mind with the label “The First Moan I Made Harry Make as Boyfriends”.

Louis keeps circling his hips, his jeans now uncomfortably restrictive, and Harry's breathing is becoming more ragged.

“Lou, Louis, please.” Harry mumbles against Louis' mouth. The corner of Louis' mouth quirks up, “Remember how you gave me bruises on my hips and shoved me back into a washing machine? What happened to aggressive Harry?”

“He's not here right now, please leave a message after the beep. Beep.” Harry replies.

“You are such a dork.” Louis rolls his eyes, but does start trailing kisses down Harry's body again.

“I'm an attractive dork, though.”

“The attractivest.” Louis agrees, taking liberty of the fact this particular patch of skin will be hidden under clothes and leaving a dark bruise just above Harry's hip bone. Without warning, Louis tugs Harry's boxers down to his shins. Harry lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Shit, Harry.” Louis says, unabashedly ogling his cock. Harry doesn't even _try_ to hide his smug smile. Egotistical prick. The smile still plays on his damn pouting, pink lips (fucking prick why is he so pretty) and so Louis licks a flat strip along the thick vein on the underside of his cock, effectively wiping the smirk from his face.

Louis flits the tip of his tongue in a zig zag motion over the vein again and Harry let's out a groan of frustration.

“Shh, I'm pretty sure Gemma wasn't joking.” Louis whispers, smirking because he _made_ Harry make that noise.

“Just blow me proper, please.” The please was more of an after thought, but Harry's voice is all raspy and ragged and _how_ is Louis meant to say no?

See, the problem is, despite knowing he was gay for all of a few weeks, Louis Tomlinson has never given a blow job. (Note the heavy sarcasm.)

But he has, actually, watched enough porn to feed a third world country, if that makes any sense.

So, alright, he can do this.

And Harry's hands are already trying to push his head back down, entangled in his hair, so he lets them. He licks around the head, first, finding that spot that makes Harry's fingers tug at his roots hard, to get used to the taste. Not bad, really, different than he'd imagined it. Better than vagina, if he's honest. He lets Harry's hands guide his head down farther, until his cock lies hot and heavy on his tongue.

Louis wraps his fingers around the base, to make up for what he couldn't take, and slowly starts to bob his head, figuring out what to do and what not to. Teeth, don't use those. Tongue, use that.

He nearly gags when he goes too low, but squeezes his thumb.

His mother probably never thought, when telling him how to make taking his vitamins easier, that he'd be using the trick to get more cock in his mouth.

He finds a nice rhythm, his hand moving in time to his mouth and tongue curling with the movements of his head. One of Harry's hands leaves his hair and Louis looks up through his eyelashes to see where it goes.

“Oh, fuck.” Harry murmurs with gravel in his tone. His hand comes to rest at his mouth, and he pinches the skin of his index finger between his teeth.

Louis has gotten the hang of this whole mouth thing, and using one arm for support, removes his hand. He trails his fingers down the curve of Harry's spine, all the while bobbing his head and curling and uncurling his tongue.

His hand reaches the curve of Harry's bum and rests there intently, before Louis can even look up or pull off to ask for permission, Harry gasps, “Yeah, yeah do it, please.”

Now Louis has some experience in this, he'd been doing it to himself long before he admitted he was gay, told himself it was just a kink. He pulls off (his jaw was getting a little sore anyway) and clears his throat before, “Harry, do you have any lube of any sort?”

Harry looks minorly upset about the fact that Louis' mouth is no longer around him, and a little nervous about having something inside him, which Louis assumes he's never done. But he nods, and reaches into his bedside table and pulls out the small bottle.

Louis takes it from him, and takes to opportunity to kiss Harry quickly. He drizzles the lube over his index finger and then closes the cap. He returns to his earlier position between Harry's legs, and gives the leaking head of Harry's cock little kitten licks, eliciting a low moan from Harry's throat.

He slowly swallows Harry down again, and then reaches up and moves Harry's long legs so his thighs sit atop his shoulders. Louis' finds Harry's rim and he jumps a little. Louis wants to tell him it's alright but his mouth is preoccupied, currently hollowing his cheeks. He pushes in, just midway to the second knuckle, and let's Harry adjust, listens to his gasping breaths and Louis' own even, controlled ones out his nose.

“Okay, I'm okay.” Harry tells him, once the beat of discomfort has passed. Louis pushes in more, waits a bit, and then pulls out slowly and pushes in again. Harry's face is an expression of curiosity, pleasure, and a bit of discomfort, but Louis keeps going, and when he crooks his finger just the right way, watches the discomfort turn to something like _oh fuck_ _._

“Do that again.” Harry gasps, lacking his usual please, and Louis obliges, and at the same time, tongues along Harry's pulsating length.

Harry returns his finger to his mouth, biting down harder as Louis keeps going. His hips jerk up involuntarily and the head of his cock hits the back of Louis' throat, but Louis manages not to gag, taking to opportunity to swallow around him, he's deep enough to feel it. And at the same time he hits Harry's prostate dead on. And then Harry's hands are scrabbling at Louis' scalp, trying to pull him off.

Louis ignores him, mentally telling the curly haired boy that his first blow job is going to be executed correctly, thank you very much, and he is not going to be a weenie and not let Harry come in his mouth.

So that's exactly what he does. Harry comes white hot, biting into his fist to stifle his moans of Louis' name and his legs shaking. Louis' free arm is wrapped around Harry's pelvis to keep his hips down while he swallows.

He watches Harry's eyes flutter shut and hears his groans quiet, turning to whimpers of oversensitivity from the continuous pumping of Louis' finger and mouth. He pulls off with and obscene pop and slowly removes his finger, relishing in the whine that snakes from Harry's lips.

Harry collapses back onto the bed, curls sweaty and cheeks red, and looks up at Louis with lazy green eyes.

“You, are amazing.” He gasps, and Louis wants to kiss him but he has a much more pressing issue, literally _pressing_ painfully against his jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more smut i think!!!  
> I'm so bad at smut I apologize  
> dont forget to tell me what you think :)


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more smut yeehaw shower sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWENTY CHAPTERS  
> TWENTY???  
> HOW DID IT GET TO THIS POINT??  
> I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR READING AND GIVING ME INCENTIVE TO WRITE THIS I HAVE BIG PLANS FOR THIS STORY BIG PLANS

 

  
  


Harry got him off with a quick, but finely executed, hand job and bites to his chest and neck, and when Louis came down from his high he really thought he could fall asleep instantly, but now Harry's wrapped around him and his breathing is even and deep and all Louis can think about is his fucking _schoolwork_ he missed.

Two school years dedicated to anything but school, and now here he is, held back a fucking grade and he's just _now_ thinking about it? What in the world? He tries to push the thoughts from his mind, they're completely useless honestly, and focus on every point of contact between him and Harry. How did it get to this point? This wonderful, fantastical, euphoric point? Wasn't he just sulking and horribly confused a few weeks ago? And now...

Louis cranes his neck forward and kisses Harry's loosely curled hand, almost to prove a point to his own inner monologue. This is where he is: encompassed in Harry's warmth and breath and little sleepy murmurs. Surrounded in tan skin and blue sheets and downy curls. Folded in arms and lips and legs.

Louis pushes back into Harry more, trying to get as close as he can, and falls asleep to the lullaby of Harry's lilting breaths.

  
  


Harry's alarm is the radio, and a fun pop song starts playing, and so Louis creaks open his eyes to see a naked, curly haired dork doing the helicopter with his penis.

“Curly, what in the world?” Louis grumbles, why is Harry so smiley? It's the _morning_. Fucking _six am._ Why is Harry's alarm set for fucking _six_ am?

“Good morning!” Harry laughs cheerfully as Louis let's his eyelids drift closed again. There's a weight on Harry's side of the bed, and Louis feels breath tickle up his cheekbones and come to rest above his ear.

“No one else is up til seven. They wouldn't see us go in the shower.”

Louis' pretty awake then, and when Harry leads him down the hallway to the shower he feels like a little boy sneaking around past his bed time with some candy, and Harry has to press his palm against Louis' mouth to stop his giggles. Which of course makes it only fair game for Louis to lick it. Naturally, Harry nearly squeals and so Louis claps his own hand over Harry's mouth. Harry licks his palm, it's only right.

But then Harry captures Louis' slim wrist with his hand that's not over Louis' lips, and moves Louis' hand down a little. The atmosphere has shifted completely and Harry's eyes looking at him like that can't be good for his mental stability. And then Harry sucks one finger into his mouth. And his lips are so _pink_ and plump and soft and they look exquisite wrapped around Louis' finger like that. Louis thinks his knees might give out, and the stupid fucker's eyes crinkle like he knows what he's doing.

So Louis uses his other hand to push Harry into the bathroom, kicking the door closed, and it's quiet thankfully. He keeps pushing Harry until he's backed up and back arched over the lip of the bathroom counter. Harry pulls his lips off Louis' finger with an absolutely filthy _pop_ and Louis crashes his mouth against Harry's.

Is it too early for this? Probably. Does Louis care?

Not one fucking bit.

Harry doesn't waste time, licking into Louis' mouth and squeezing his ass until he gets a little whimper of a moan.

“Shower.” Louis gasps, lips moving against some part of Harry's skin. He's so glad they're already naked.

“Mhm.” Harry agrees, wet lips pulling on Louis' jawline quickly before going and turning the shower on. Once it's flowing, he turns back to Louis, smiles a little, sly smile when he sees how hard Louis already is.

Harry takes his hand and leads him under the hot water.

“Let me wash your hair.” Harry says, commandingly, and Louis wonders if aggressive Harry is back. Begging was fun too, though.

Louis turns around though, and hear Harry pouring some shampoo in his hands. He brings his fingers up and starts massaging them through Louis' scalp, and Louis lets out a little unintentional groan.

“Ever think about becoming a masseuse?” He murmurs, eyes narrowed in pleasure. At his words, Harry moves his hands down Louis' neck and across his shoulders, rubbing deep circles in with his thumbs. Louis lets his head drop back, and eyes close all the way.

“Rinse.” Harry says, stepping away and Louis almost loses his balance. Harry moves Louis backward so he's under the stream of water, and he's in front of the smaller boy. Louis raises slightly unsteady hands to start rinsing out the shampoo, but then Harry's on his knees and he licks a flat strip up Louis' cock and _oh_.

He wastes no time in closing is mouth around Louis, and focusing on rinsing his hair becomes increasingly difficult. Soon, there's no suds left and Harry pulls off, making Louis whimper embarrassingly.

“Time to wash.” He says, dimple ghosting on his cheek. How can he be so cute and so hot at the same time? He stays in front of Louis, but reaches around him to get a bottle of body wash. He squirts a generous amount into his palm and Louis thinks he can see his pulse in his own goddamned eyeballs. Harry lathers the (peach? Nectarine? Is there a difference?) body wash between his hands, and then leans forward to kiss Louis again, mouth closed. His hands start moving over Louis' back, rubbing in slow circles to suds him up, and then they move down to his ass and Louis tries desperately to get Harry to open his mouth, he needs to fucking kiss him properly. Harry moves closer and Louis whines in the back of his throat when his cock moves against Harry. Harry's soapy hands keep moving, until they're rubbing down Louis' chest and down and down further. At this point Louis thinks he might cry if Harry doesn't touch him _now_.

Harry wraps a hand around both of them, lining up their cocks.

“Harry, please.” Louis gasps, hips thrusting up into Harry's hand. He leans down and kisses Louis then, really kisses him with enough vigor to make it rated R, and starts pumping his hand, groaning into Louis' mouth.

“You're so hot, Lou.” Harry groans after Louis emits another whimpering moan. After a few more minutes of this, somehow Louis is lying down in the tub and Harry's on top of him, hands on either side of Louis shoulders, grinding their cocks together.

“Think you can come like this?” Harry asks, voice practically an animalistic growl.

Louis nods, whining a little and jerking up his hips when words fail him. The only sound for the next few minutes is the sound of the water falling around them and the occasional moan.

“Oh fuck.” Louis groans, hips bucking up sporadically.

“Gonna come?” Harry asks and it's all Louis can do to nod and crane his neck to kiss him. Harry grinds down harder and faster, his tongue sweeping into Louis' mouth, and then Louis is coming, his jaw dropping open and a gasping shout falling out as Harry keeps grinding down like his life depends on it.

When Louis comes down he sees Harry's eyes are squeezed shut and lips parted like he's desperate to come.

“You know,” Louis' voice sounds weak and tired, but he keeps going, “I bet you're still slick from last night.”

Harry lets out a small moan.

“And you know, I bet I could just...” Louis trails off, lines his finger up with Harry's rim and pushes inside. Harry barely needs any time to adjust, because Louis was right, and Louis quirks his finger just so. Harry's mouth drops open in a small shout and his back arches up, pushing back onto Louis' finger as he comes onto both of their chests.

“Fuck, Louis.” Harry groans, arms giving out.

They just breathe for a moment, until Louis realizes water droplets are bouncing annoyingly into his eyes and the water has turned lukewarm.

They get up, kissing lazily as they wash each other off and then dry each other off and maybe they dress each other and kiss interesting places like corners of hands and hollows of ankles before collapsing into bed for a short nap before they really need to be up.

Before dozing off, Louis wonders how sad he really was before Harry, because this has to be happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to tell me what you think!  
> ALSO MIDNIGHT MEMORIES???? IM?????  
> and thank you to my lovely beta larrydidathing.tumblr.com she really is quite lovely love her


	21. Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i dont know what even just happened tbh it just started typing out all on its own  
> also, sorry its late!!  
> thank u to my beta for being lovely larrydidathing.tumblr.com but sadly she wasnt online to go over this and since it was already late i just wanted to post  
> a little short too, apologies

 

So Louis' day started off amazing and then deteriorated like you wouldn't believe. They woke up a half an hour later to get ready, which wasn't hard. Louis threw on one of Harry's beanies to mask his natural hair (which Harry was a little upset about because he says it's a thing of beauty and should not be hidden but Louis said he looked like he had a bowl cut so too bad) and pulled on his clothes from yesterday, which since he hadn't gone to school no one had seen.

 

But then Anne drove them to school, and everything was normal in the car, but the second they were in the eyes of others Harry drifted farther and farther away from him and barely spoke to him.

 

They had a class together first block, music, and Harry didn't talk to him once. Just to Liam and other football friends, even though technically Louis is a football friend.

 

And now it's health, with Harry again, and he still hasn't made an attempt to talk to him. Which is, you know, that's alright. Not really but, they did spend the whole of yesterday together so. Yeah.

 

But then after football practice there's the whole showering thing and Liam sees the bruise Louis bit into Harry's lower stomach.

 

“Whoa, who gave you that?” Liam asks, going in for a high five, but Harry just rolls his eyes, “Liam, I don't appreciate your eyes straying so near to my genitals.” He says in a mock-serious voice. Louis holds back a snort-giggle, because you know how it is, when you like someone you laugh at everything they do just a smidgen too much.

 

It's Liam's turn to roll his eyes, “You're the one who insists on not using swim trunks.”

 

“Hey, a man needs to let his junk breathe.” Harry says, lathering up his hair with shampoo. His sudsy fingers were in Louis' hair just this morning, tugging in the sweetest way.

 

How many god damn showers has Louis taken today?

 

“I never want to hear about your junk breathing. Ever.” Liam laughs, turning off his shower and pulling his swim trunks off after wrapping his waist in a towel. The showers were supposed to have curtains but low budget and stuff. The girls get curtains. Louis also believes in the breathing rights of penises (peni?) and would enjoy not wearing these hideously orange trunks to shower. On the bright side, Harry doesn't have a problem with it.

 

“Harry you never told us who it was from.” Jace coaxes. Louis suddenly isn't too fond of Jace. Because now Harry's going to have to lie, and Louis' going to have to hear it and it's going to hurt, especially considering Harry hasn't so much as made eye contact with him all day.

 

Now Harry lying and saying some girl's name would have hurt, but nothing like what he actually says, “Oh, no one.”

 

Oh, no one.

 

Louis' probably being stupid- but what if? What if Louis isn't anyone to Harry? All the times Harry's kissed him and blushed and giggled and told him he liked him flash in Louis' mind, but are they lies or truths?

 

That's the problem with lying, it kind of takes a chunk of happiness out of the world.

 

  
  


 

So Louis does the laundry slowly and, when he's sure everyone's gone, starts to cry into his sleeve. He's so damn unsure of everything and he just wants to fold in on himself and hide himself from eyes and things that hurt. His body doesn't understand how to handle his fluctuating emotions- euphoria and fourletterwordhe'snotallowedtosayyetbecauseit'sfartooearlyandhe'sprobablyjustconfused, and then devastation and depression and his old friend: giving up.

 

Between cycles he sits against the chipping white painted wall and bites into his fist, because he doesn't like the sound of crying. It reminds him he's crying and it makes him cry harder.

 

Oh, no one.

 

It's not like Harry could have told the truth, but _no one?_ He could have said Lacey Collins (bad move, she would have denied it) and therefore he was holding Louis as high on a pedestal as her. But _no one_. Like he's less than air to Harry. Nothing.

 

The door opens then and some entirely irrational part of Louis' brain (the whole fucking thing) thinks it's going to be Harry and he's going to kiss him until his eyes don't remember how to cry, but it's Zayn. He looks shocked and stills for a moment, looking at the red, teary mess that is his strong best friend, before kneeling down and hugging Louis in way that makes his body unable to remember how to be happy.

 

Zayn does the second load of laundry and insists Louis lie down and close his eyes, if not sleep. The grey floor is cool, but it's welcoming on Louis' burning cheeks. And he's cleaning this little section with his tears, so less work for a janitor, right?

 

He kind of dozes off between hiccups and sniffles to the sound of the washing mashine, baboomswishing in time with his heart beats and inhaleexhales.. Zayn hums a little tune which Louis recognizes to be the audition song, and rubs his back.

 

Louis' a little too asleep to be awake but a little too awake to be asleep and he feels Zayn reach into his jeans pocket and pull out his phone.

 

“Hi, Mrs. Tomlinson, could you come pick Louis up at school? He's not doing so great and I got him to sleep so skateboarding isn't really an option.” Little pause. “Oh, no, I don't need a ride, it's alright.” Long pause. “Yeah, yeah I'll stay over tonight. I'll get him down to the parking lot now.”

 

Zayn hangs up and Louis' cracks open one eye just enough to see Zayn purse his lips at whatever text is on Louis' phone. He pockets it, but Louis doesn't argue. He doesn't really want to read it.

 

“Hey, Lou.” Zayn whispers, his hand pausing it's circular motions and patting between Louis' shoulder blades. Louis blearily opens his eyes, wishing he could have just slept right there for a good few years, maybe. The light is brighter than the last time his eyes were open, and Zayn is darker. He helps him up and Louis wipes his cheeks with his sleeve and sniffles. Blinks, once, twice.

 

Zayn lets Louis rest his head in the crook of his shoulder as they walk.

 

“Am I no one?” He asks warm, reassuring shoulder/neck skin.

 

“Lou, sometimes I think you're everyone.”

 

He'll think about that answer later, for now it's enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you thought!!! i love u all to bits and pieces of bits and fragments of pieces of bits


	22. Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my lovely beta larrydidathing.tumblr.com for being lovely

 

  


Louis' awake, but his eyes are tired and bleary as they wait for his mom. He's a little worried about seeing her, he hadn't really warned her about going to Harry's place or staying over, she may have just assumed he needed time to think. He inwardly cringes when he thinks about how he handled the situation- she told him she accepted him and he basically just walked away. What kind of an idiot are you, Tomlinson?

“Your mom wants me to stay over tonight. She said you two are a little rocky at the moment.” Zayn says. Louis watches him pick at a bit of rubber coming off his shoe.

“Yeah, alright.” Louis nods, swallowing the seemingly eternal lump in his throat.

A car pulls up then, and through his haze of emotions and shit Louis recognizes it to be his mother's. He and Zayn get up and Zayn gets in the back, leaving Louis to the passenger seat next to his mom.

“Hi boys.” Jay says, waiting for them to buckle.

“Hi.” Zayn replies.

“Sorry.” Louis mumbles. Jay reaches over and pats his knee, “It's okay honey. It's hard.” He wonders what she means, what's hard? Being gay? Being in a relationship? Is he even in a relationship? Being heartbroken/sad/mad? Being a teenager? Living?

Living, he thinks, is definitely the hardest thing he's ever done.

  


People seem to be prone to knowing things before Louis. Like, things Louis should be the first to know. Like being gay, for example. Lottie knew he was leaning toward depressed/suicidal before he did himself, which is something he's coming to realize now (that life _sucks_ and he doesn't want anything more to do with it.) And now Zayn says it's going to be okay, that everything will work out.

But that's just the thing.

He's going to graduate high school, hopefully, and then go onto college, hopefully, and get a job and live somewhere and get married and grow old and die and that's _it_ , that's 'worked out'. What is the point of everything if people are unhappy 90% of the time? Shouldn't happiness be the number one priority? Not money or calculus or traffic. Why do things if they don't make you happy?

Zayn says it's so you can be happy in the future, but Louis' not so sure. He probably shouldn't be thinking about the future right now, what with his emotions as they are. Never drive angry, they say, well the same goes for thinking about the future: never do it when you're sad.

So maybe tomorrow life won't suck and he'll want something to do with it, maybe, but maybe not.

Now, sitting on the floor of his room with Zayn, he takes another puff of the joint, inhaling the high and exhaling the low, trying to forget all about Harry and his mom and the future.

“Fuck it all.” He mutters, taking another drag.

“Amen.” Zayn agrees.

There's a bit more silence while Louis wades through his murky thoughts.

“How're you and Pezza?”

“Not the greatest, actually.” Zayn says, looking upset.

“Why not?”

“I'm just, like I love her and stuff right? But we've been together since freshman year and I just- I'm finding other people attractive for like the _first_ time since then and it's just weird. But like, I mean, I've seen other people, like Lacey Collins or someone, and thought they were attractive but I never would spare them a second glance. Like I'd never fantasize about kissing them or what they'd look like in the mornings and rushing to get dressed before my mom wakes up, you know?”

Louis just nods, because he doesn't _really_ know. Maybe he does, but he's not thinking about _him_ right now.

“And I'm just kinda scared because it's different.” Zayn murmurs, looking into the smoke he just blew like it will tell him what to do.

“Who is it?” Louis asks and flicks ash into an ash tray.

There's a mumble from Zayn, whose face has gone completely different colored from normal- pale and red and maybe purple?

“Hm?” Louis asks.

“Liam.”

Louis blanches, “What?”

“I have a huge fucking crush on Liam fucking Payne, alright? I want to suck his cock and I want to fuck his asshole and I want to kiss the living daylights out of him.”

There's a pause before Louis leans back, taking another hit, and says, “Well, that was probably the biggest plot twist of my entire life.”

Zayn huffs out a sort of laugh, “Yeah, you can imagine my confusion when I moaned his name while Perrie's legs were around me.”

Louis' eyes widen, and he claps his hand over his mouth trying to hold back his laughter, “You didn't!”

Zayn nods ruefully. “I don't know if she heard, 'cause she's kinda loud and stuff, but _I_ heard and it was fucking weird.”

“So you like boys then, eh Malik?”

“I don't know. I like _him_.” Zayn says quietly.

“Love is weird.” Louis says, putting out the joint.

“Tell me about it.” Zayn sighs.

They sit for a moment, no longer smoking, just enjoying the haziness of their minds. There's too much going on right now. Romance issues, school issues, drama auditions, football, mom issues, emotional issues... Louis' mind is reeling and he doesn't know how to get it to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could have uploaded this last night if it wasnt for those meddling technical difficulties! *shakes fist at the internet*  
> there was almost a zouis kiss/smut scene but i decided enough was going on and i really need to write out Louis' schedule like idek what's going on half the time  
> tell me what you thought of this chapter!! it's kind of a mish mosh, sorry


	23. Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWENTY THREEE???????  
> (also, I've recently posted a few one shots and it would mean the world to me if you'd read those too!)

 

  
  


Louis wakes up on Friday curled up next to Zayn on his bed with his alarm blaring from Zayn's pocket. He pushes his hands into his eyes, rubbing out the crust, and crawls over to Zayn and reaches in his back pocket. They've been best friends for years, butt touching is a normal thing.

He pulls out his phone and swipes, turning off the music. He notices that there are no texts showing up in his notifications, and when he goes to iMessage there's nothing new either, but he swears he remembers Zayn looking at something on his lock screen, which is just some cool Spider Man vans he really wants.

“Rise and shine.” Louis says, nudging Zayn's shoulder. He just groans and buries his face deeper into the mattress.

“C'mon, up up, today's audition day and we get to miss first block.”

“No.” Zayn says, but pushes himself up onto his hands and knees anyway, then pushes off so he's just on his knees and stretching.

Louis gets up then, braving the cold. As the seasons turn it's getting awfully cold in the mornings, waking up is going to be impossible. Fall is starting to get less pretty- the red and oranges and yellows dulling into brown and falling to the tan grass and the sky getting greyer. Louis hates this time, in that limbo between fall and winter.

He remembers learning about literary symbols in freshman year, and how spring represented birth and beginnings and how summer represented youth and prosperity and then how fall was old age and dying and how winter was death. Maybe that's how it was before heating and everything- some neanderthal instinct that the cold and snow bring death- but now winter seems to be a symbol of hope, to Louis anyway. Things to come, and all that. Snow makes children happy with snow days and snow angels and snowmen and snowball fights, how could something that symbolizes death make children happy?

Louis briefly wonders how he has a C- in English, then remembers up until a few weeks ago it was an F.

He and Zayn get ready pretty quickly, Zayn forgoing his usual quiff for the day and letting the blonde streak in his hair (a joke Perrie played on him while he was sleeping that he's actually become quite attached to) poke out from the bottom of his fringe. He borrows one of Louis' shirts he doesn't really wear all that often, and red and black plaid button down, and wears the jeans from the day previous.

Louis wants to punch him in his perfectly sculpted jaw for looking so good all the time.

He tells Zayn this and Zayn just laughs and puts a cigarette between his lips, completely perfecting his image. Fuck him.

Louis decides grudgingly to style his hair so it's not horribly flat and soft into a sort of bed-head, sex hair fringey thing. Whatever.

His mom gets up then, while he and Zayn are eating Cheetos for breakfast, and he pulls on his black Converse high tops and slings his back pack over his shoulder. She drives them to school, and it's mostly silent. Louis' stomach is rolling, it feels like his stomach acid is on overdrive and digesting his body. God, he's going to have to sing in front of people and he's going to have to see Harry and he's going to have to sing in front of Harry and- oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Fuck.

Zayn gets out of the car first, but Louis hesitates for a beat and turns to his mom in the front seat. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek quickly.

“Love you.” He says, nearly cheerfully, but they both know it's a kind of peace offering, even though they weren't even fighting. She just gives him a wide smile and he crawls out of the car, joining Zayn.

The email they'd received about the auditions said to go directly to the auditorium in the morning, so instead of going upstairs to the senior lockers (which Louis does have despite technically being a junior) they turn left and walk through the heavy wooden doors.

There's a lot of people already waiting (Louis and Zayn is not a combination you want to have if you're trying to be early) and Mrs. Clark looks at her clipboard.

“Good! That's everyone who signed up.” She says as Louis and Zayn join the crowd. Harry is stood across the arc and looking at Louis worriedly, but Louis' not noticing. Not at all. Nope.

“Okay, so you'll be auditioning in groups of five, each of you will sing about a verse and harmonize with one another and then all together at the end. Most of you have auditioned before, so we have an idea of who will work well with who. Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, and Louis Tomlinson, you five have not auditioned before, so we put you in a group and if you don't work together, that's alright, your solos should give us most of the information we need.” Mrs. Clark prattles on, but Louis stopped listening after she said his and Harry's name together.

Ed Sheeran, the writer of the audition song and arranger of the music for the play, goes around to the groups she names and explains what parts they'll be doing and what parts to harmonize at. Liam drifts over to Louis and Zayn and says hi, and then compliments Zayn's blonde streak. Louis makes a note to tease Zayn about the way he goes all shy and stumbles over his words trying to accept the compliment.

Niall bounds over then, greeting everyone with a smile and some speedy- Irish accented jumble of words about the song and how he really wants to be Danny, and how he'd even go back to being brunette if he had to.

Then Harry comes over, and stands right next to Louis, and says hello, but Louis doesn't reply. He's going to give him the fucking silent treatment, he is. Niall notes it, observant asshole, and looks at both of them, as if the answer for the tension would come from the air.

Ed comes over to them then, the last group, and shows them a print of the lyrics.

“So, hopefully you practiced and know the tune,” Ed chuckles, Louis' glad he did last night with Zayn before they went to bed, “so Zayn, you'll be taking the first verse, then Liam, and on the first chorus I want you to sing together. Then after that its Louis, and on the last line here, Harry, you harmonize with him then go into the next verse. You and Niall sing together on the next chorus, and then Niall's solo, and then on the last chorus- all of you, alright?” They nod, taking the paper Ed marked up for them.

The first group up is Perrie and her friends Jesy, Leigh-Anne, and Jade, and then some other girl who doesn't do very well and forgets the lyrics. They're quite good, actually, and Louis' heard Perrie sing before. If she doesn't get a big part he'd be shocked. There's three other groups after them, and they're all alright.

Then it's them. Louis' stomach is churning, and he thinks he's going to vomit all over everything if he opens his mouth to sing.

They get on the stage after depositing the paper on the table Ed and Mrs. Clark sit at. They pick up the mics and Zayn starts. His hands are perfectly steady and Louis doesn't get it.

“Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me

but bear this in mind it was meant to be

and I'm joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks

and it all makes sense to me.”

He lets out a breath after, the only sign that he was nervous, and Louis gives him a trembling thumbs up.

Harry is standing next to him and out of the corner of his eye Louis can see him look down, but he's ignoring him so he won't look. Liam's nearing the end of his bit, he's really quite good, Louis wouldn't have seen it coming, when he feels warmth envelope his shaking hand. He looks then, and Harry has his hand wrapped up in his own long fingers.

“It's okay.” He mouths. And it really must be, if 'straight' Harry would hold his hand in front of all these people. Forgiveness weasels it's way through the cracks in Louis' stubborn personality.

Zayn and Liam harmonizing is fantastic, really, and when they're done Liam claps Zayn on the back and mouths, “You're really good.”

Louis doesn't have time to be happy for him though, because it's his turn.

“You can't go to bed without a cup of tea

and maybe that's the reason that you talk in your sleep

and all those conversations are the secrets that I keep

though it makes no sense to me.”

He lowers his mic and relief floods through him. He didn't fuck it up, his voice didn't crack and he didn't forget the words! He's nearly grinning when Harry starts singing, and then smile drops from his lips.

His voice is so gravelly and raspy and Louis wants to wrap himself up in it like a wool blanket. He sees some girls in the audience actually drop their jaws open. Louis can't help but look up at him then, in awe. His hand is like a death grip on Louis', and if he's nervous that's the only sign.

Louis squeezes back a little, and Harry looks at him just in time to sing, “And you're perfect to me.”

Louis notices the small lyric change, and he knows it's not just a fluke, Harry's genuinely that type of person.

Harry's such a good singer, he's obviously going to get Danny, Louis thinks, and then the full force of the thought hits him as Niall starts his solo. Fuck, his voice wasn't even _comparable_ to the others'. They were all so good, and his voice is so high and... different.

Louis removes his fingers forcefully from Harry's then, emotion raging around inside him like a whirlpool.

He manages to get through the last chorus, and does note how good they sound together, but can't help the niggling in the back of his mind telling him it would probably sound better without him.

People clap for them, something they'd only done for Perrie, Jade, Jesy, and Leigh-Anne. But when they get off the stage, Louis doesn't take his seat, just keeps walking until he's in the bathroom and locked in a stall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so Louis' voice is my most favorite thing in the world, these are not really my opinions on his voice, but insecure!louis is kind of a head cannon of mine so i put it in   
> also i want to talk about the emails they are getting for school: at my school we have ipads so we always get emails for information and after a year and half of high school i literally do not remember how we did it with just paper and pencils and actual text books like i do not remember so I'm sorry if that's a little weird for you guys!  
> thank you lovelies for reading!!!


	24. Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE AND UNEDITED IM A LOSER IM SORRY

 

  
  


Louis breathes hard, his whole body tremors with every beat of his heart, the blood pounding against the walls of his veins. His stomach turns and he thinks he's going to throw up. He won't, he's just... angry.

So yeah, Louis' a little butthurt. He's always prided himself on his ability to sing, and he's always known he's not the only person who can sing in the world, and he's heard Perrie sing, but like, she's a girl, _completely_ different. But they were all so good- and there's not that many big male singing parts (solo anyway) in the play, there's no way in _hell_ Louis' gonna get Danny. Not with Zayn or Harry- Zayn with the look and Harry with that _voice_. And there was something in Zayn's voice which just suggested something bigger behind it. If Louis could hear it, then Ed and Mrs. Clark heard it. _Fuck_.

He's selfish, so sue him.

Louis steels himself and takes a deep breath, now a little embarrassed by his quick exit. When he comes back into view, Harry seems to be the only one that noticed his absence and cocks his head concernedly, but, fuck him, Louis' still mad because of the locker room. Even if he did hold his hand. In front of everyone.

Shit.

But, no, still mad. Angry. Enraged. Gr.

“So, now that Mr. Tomlinson is back,” Mrs. Clark says, pointedly.

“Sorry, had a wee.” Louis shrugs and a murmur of laughter bubbles from the auditionees.

She rolls her eyes, everyone in this school is used to Louis by now, “Aaaanyway, the parts will be announced over the announcements today at the end of the day. We decided to forgo the acting auditions this year because no one was ever really good.”

Fuck, something Louis might actually excel in just- poof- fucking _forgone_.

“Go on, second block is about to start.” She says, apparently with that insult she had dismissed them. There is a collective wave of commotion, everyone standing and shouldering on their bags.

“Zayn, you really are amazing, like wow.” Liam says.

“Thank you, you're really good yourself.” Zayn replies, managing to hold back his blush. They start walking off and Louis feels fatherly pride swell in his chest as he thinks, “Get it in.”

So maybe 'fatherly pride' and 'get it in' aren't things that go together, but. Well.

“Hey, Lou.” Harry says, catching up to him as Louis starts walking, exiting the auditorium. He takes like two steps to get there when it probably took Louis five, damn him and his long gazelle legs.

“Louis.” Harry repeats, and when Louis doesn't reply he taps his shoulder.

“Harry, I've made it quite plain I'm angry with you.” Louis says sharply. He sees Harry's steps falter out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, does that matter to you? I thought I was just _no one_.” The bell rings as he speaks, and he knows soon the hallways will be flooded with people.

“You're not _no one_!” Harry protests, “Lou, you're the farthest thing from no one.”

“Then why did you say I was? Jesus, Harry, you could have at least made up a name! You made me feel like I'm _nothing_ to you. Am I just your experiment, Harry? Am I _nothing?_ ”

“No, Louis, please, you're so much of everything. To me.” Harry sounds like he's pleading. Louis just shakes his head, turning to walk away and melt into the swarm of rushing teenagers.

“Wait, I'll prove it to you.” Harry says, catching his shoulder and pulling him back.

“How the fuck are you going to do that?” Louis asks, anger pulsing through him. Harry pauses for a moment, green eyes transparent and shining, looking into Louis'. His lips are parted like he's breathing heavily with the effort of getting Louis to see. And if Louis weren't all kinds of angry at him, he'd think in metaphors and poetry about those lips.

Resolve steels itself in Harry's features then, but his voice comes out like a thread, “Like this.”

And then his lips are pressing to Louis' in the middle of the main hallway in the height of the passing time, hundreds of students, all of which know both of their reputations (infamous in Louis' case) stopping to stare. But Louis doesn't really know that, anymore, it's all gone because if there was a kiss to top all kisses, it's this one. There's no tongue, and it's only sort of open mouthed, but there's this feeling backing it and pushing through Harry's skin and leeching into Louis' soul and it can only be described as love. He can't think that yet, so he'll save it for later.

Louis is the first to pull away, as he hadn't taken in a full lungful of air before Harry had taken it all. He's giddy, smiling like a loon, but only then realizes that they both just basically came out. Harry's shaking, visibly paler, and the hush in the hallway is noticeable, not huge, but noticeable.

“Harry, what the fuck?” Louis hears and turns around to see Jace. Harry just goes paler. “Harry, I mean, Tommo I could kind of guess if I tried hard enough, but Harry, you're a faggot?”

Louis spins his whole body around then, marching toward Jace.

“ _What did you call him_?”He asks through clenched teeth.

Jace just smirks down at him and whispers dramatically, “A _faggot_.”

Louis lifts his fist, fully intending to punch the living daylights out of him, when a hand envelopes his closed fingers.

“Louis, don't, please.” Harry pleads with him. Louis lets his arm down, only for Harry. The warning bell rings, and even an asshole like Jace doesn't want to be late for class, so he just sneers at the both of them and walks away.

“Lou please take me to the bathroom.” Harry asks, and Louis can hear the tears in his throat. He just nods and leads him to the same bathroom he nearly had a mental breakdown in, what, five minutes earlier?

When the door swings closed Harry nearly collapses, sitting on the floor and wrapping his arms around his knees and beginning to cry. Louis just sits too, murmuring apologies and encouragement into his curls, his arms wrapped around his skinny torso. Harry turns to him and buries his face in his chest, full on sobs heaving his body.

“Harry, you didn't have to.” Louis says.

“I wanted to.” Harry answers between cries. And he says something else suspiciously similar to 'I love you', but Louis will save that for later. He just kisses Harry's hair, and leaves his lips there for a long time, wishing that with every inhale he could take some of this hurt out of Harry and take it all on himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so lately ive become kind of unhappy with this fic, its just not my favorite thing to write anymore, so this wasnt meant to happen this chapter at all, but I've decided to speed things up.  
> updates are probably going to be less regular, too, because im working on 4 long one shots and 2 short ones and a new /long/ chaptered fic   
> so yeah  
> also sorry this ones so short  
> also!! ive changed my url on tumblr i am now youremylad so ill be sure to change the end notes eventually  
> please leave me comments telling me what you think!! this chapter's kind of a mish mosh innit?


	25. Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY IF THIS IS SHIT I REALLY JUST WANTED TO GET A CHAPTER UP FOR YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

 

  
  


Louis and Harry have first block across the hall from each other, and both teachers leave the doors open. Sometimes, while Louis tunes out his teacher drone on about literature or whatever, he'll look out the door and Harry will be looking at him. When he notices Louis looking at him, he'll make subtle funny faces. One time he got caught, and Louis barely had enough time before Harry's teacher came in and scolded all the girls in the class for distracting Harry, and then scolding Harry for being distracted. Louis could barely hold it together while he watched all the girls looking around in confusion, because it wasn't any of them. The juniors would love to be going out with Harry Styles the senior. English is one of the classes Louis failed the year prior, and has to repeat.

But this class, when Louis looks across the hall, Harry is in the back corner so it's difficult to see, but Louis can see that his head is in his hands.

Everyone in Louis' own class is looking at him too, and whenever he makes eye contact with them they look away and blush.

“Hey, Tommo.” They kid behind him whispers. He's a junior and Louis couldn't be bothered to learn his name, even though he's on the football team.

“Fuck off.” Louis replies through his teeth, not looking back.

“No, I just wanted to say that I think you're really brave.” He says. Louis turns around this time and looks at him for a moment.

“I'm not brave.” He finally says, “It was all Harry.”

The guy nods, and Louis turns to look out the door again. Harry has now sunk lower in his seat, face towards the desk and his arms wrapped around his head. He's never seen him look so defeated. Especially not at school, where he's the monarch, the reigning king.

Louis can't even be the littlest bit angry about the 'oh, no one' debacle anymore, not if this is what Harry was trying to avoid.

Louis feels like utter _shit_ for forcing him to do this. Not that he like, _intentionally_ forced him, but even so.

The classroom phone rings and his teacher stops her speech or whatever she was torturing everyone with. She answers it with a simple 'room 206'. She 'uh huh's into the phone a few times, but Louis' not really paying attention. He's looking across the hall to where Jace is throwing bits of paper in Harry's curls. Harry's not noticing because of the whole 'hair lacks nerve endings' bullshit (which, Louis supposes, isn't really bullshit, otherwise haircuts would be horrid), but when he does find out he'll be angry and upset. Louis really hates when Harry's angry and upset.

“Tomlinson, Principal Morgan would like to see you in his office.”

Everyone looks at him then, and some people snigger. He wants to rip out their throats.

“The fag's gonna get suspended. Might have to stay back again.” He hears someone say, loudly enough it was obvious that they didn't care if Louis heard. Like because they know he's gay suddenly he doesn't have feelings. Well they can just fuck right off.

He stands up and walks out of the classroom, taking deep breaths to hold back the stinging in his eyeballs threatening to spill over.

The journey the the principal's office is long. Louis' on the second floor to the far right, whereas the principals office is on the first floor in the middle. Old Louis, pre-harry Louis, would take a nice stroll, visit the toilet, think about all the homework he wasn't going to do, visit some friends in other classrooms and get kicked out. New Louis, Harry's Louis, is too busy thinking about Harry to be concerned much with anything else. He reaches the office quickly and knocks on the door, instead of just strolling in.

“Come in.” Mr. Morgan says, and Louis does, sitting down.

“Louis-” He starts.

“Look, I wasn't going to punch him, I really wasn't. I have a weak right hook- hell a weak left hook too. It would have been embarrassing, I wouldn't have punched him I was just mad about what he said about Harry, please don't suspend or expel me, please. I really wouldn't have hit him.”

Mr. Morgan's visage flicks through a range of emotions, namely confusion, incredulity, disappointment, defeated, and confusion again.

“What? No, I called you in here because there's a chance you can graduate this year.” He says.

“Oh, I- uh, forget what I just said then.” Louis says, laughing nervously, heart stuttering at this new information.

“I don't even want to know, at this point.” The principal says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyway. We took a look at your credits and scheduling, and we've realized that if you take all AP and honors classes for the second half of the year and get above a 75 in all of them, you could graduate as planned this spring. Your grades have been rising over the past months and we really think you could do this, if you applied yourself. Especially coupled with your involvement with the football team, though limited, and your recent placement as the lead in the drama club-”

“Wait, I got _lead_?” Louis interrupts him, heart pounding.

“Darn it! I wasn't supposed to say anything, I'm sorry. Yes. Mrs. Clark made her mind up quickly, we already have the cast list ready for this afternoon's announcements.”

“Oh my god you're _kidding_ , oh my god! I have to tell my mom! I have to tell Harry!”

“Mr. Tomlinson, please focus on the subject at hand, and frankly the more important one, your graduation, remember?”

“Yeah, right, sorry.” Louis apologizes, settling back down in his seat.

“So would you like to go forward with this? AP classes are extremely difficult, but we know how gifted you are, and we really think if you applied yourself you could do this. If you say yes, next semester you'll have an entirely different schedule than the one you've already seen,” (truth be told, Louis hadn't even looked at it yet) “if you say no, well everything will continue as planned and you'll graduate next year.”

Louis thinks for a moment. Zayn could help him study, Perrie too, if she wanted. Harry would, he's a nerd, he _likes_ some of his classes, the weirdo. His mom. Lottie's pretty smart, and she could quiz him maybe.

“Yes, I'd like to do it.” Louis decides, and if he were in to all that dramatic shit, he'd say he felt a switch being flipped, moving his life towards something great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please check out the one shot and new chaptered fic ive posted!!!  
> tell me what u think in the comments!!!  
> i love you!!!  
> (also this is not only a high school AU but an AU in which curriculums and credits and technical things like that aren't the same so i can do what i want with Louis' education neener neener neeeeenerrrrr)


	26. Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT AND UNBETAED I LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH

 

  
  


Louis goes back to class after the bell for second block has already rung. He doesn't have this class with Harry, and he won't have any contact with him at all, unless they text.

Even though he's supposed to be keeping up his grades, he really can't pay attention this class. All he can think about is Harry. What if he has another class with Jace? What if he hasn't gotten the bits of paper out of his hair yet? What if everyone's staring at him? What if he's holding back tears? What if he's mot holding back tears and he's _crying_?

Louis just wants to kiss him better.

Louis' not even worried for himself, Harry's taking this a lot harder. Louis' been under the radar for a while now, since he started smoking and stopped caring, but Harry's always been top dog, one of the most popular people in school. There was always girls and hook up rumors and parties. The only thing people made fun of him for was his lack of ability to drive. And Louis' gone and ruined all that for him.

His thoughts are all Harry worry for the rest of the day, especially when he gets to health and Harry's not in class.

Word travels fast in this school, so when Louis asks to go to the bathroom the teacher looks at him pityingly and says no, he's not surprised. He's jittery all block, and thank fucking _god_ fifth block is the last block, and the bell rings. He stands up in a hurry and throws his bag on his shoulder- and then announcements start. His stomach is rolling, _where's Harry_?

Everyone's staring at him and he's not sure why, and then he tunes into the tinny voice coming from the intercom.

“Danny's understudy will be played by Harry Styles-”

Some kid near the back of the classroom mutters, “So he's under him in more ways than one.” And Louis shoots him a threatening look. So he's been announced as Danny.

“Sandy will be played by Jade Thirlwall. Sandy's understudy is Leigh-Anne Pinnock. Rizzo will be played by Perrie Edwards. Zayn Malik as Kenickie, Niall Horan as Sonny, and Liam Payne as Putzy.” More names are prattled off, but Louis doesn't care much because Harry's walking in. His head is low and a slip from the guidance counselor's office is crunched in his fist.

He hands it to the teacher just as the bell rings, and everyone rushes out of the room. Louis hangs back for Harry, whose head is still low. The room quickly empties, everyone wanting to go home or out on a Friday.

“Harry?” Louis asks, softly, hesitantly. All he hears is a small sniffle before there's a much-taller-than-him boy trying to make himself small enough to fit into Louis' arms. He's not crying, from what Louis can tell, just breathing into Louis' neck, shuddery and quiet. Louis pets his hair and gently picks out the remaining miniscule balls of paper while trying not to look at Mr. Barton, who's thankfully concentrated quite purposefully on his laptop.

“Congrats on Danny.” Harry finally chokes out. For someone so big and broad and loud and happy, his voice sounds so small and meek and quiet and sad.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Louis says, and realizes it's the first time he's called Harry anything like that. Harry lifts his head and looks down at him through glassy eyes, “Sweetheart?” He questions, but he's got a small smile on his lips.

Louis nods, and goes on his tiptoes to kiss him. Mr. Barton clears his throat though, and they get the hint.

“Walk home with me? Skip practice?” Louis asks. Harry nods and they head toward the door. Just before Louis opens it, Harry reaches for his hand and laces their fingers.

“You sure?” Louis looks at him with concern. Not everyone's left yet. Harry nods again. Louis thinks he may become a bobble head. Louis squeezes his hand and opens the door. At first no one looks, everyone's slamming their lockers and running to catch their bus even though they've already left or kissing goodbye or talking to a teacher about their grades- but eventually someone notices, and eventually most people are staring.

But something different happens.

Ben Winston smiles at them as they walk by, Lou Teasdale and Tom Atkins wave at them where they walk hand in hand, Nick Grimshaw says “Congratulations!” as he walks by.

And, of course, there's some people looking at them like they've grown two heads, but the nice comments over power it. Harry's squeezing Louis' hand like it's the only thing keeping him on the ground, and for Louis it just might be.

Harri comes up to them then, “You two are really brave, you deserve the best.” She says, and then kisses both their cheeks. Even Lacey Collins, who'd been walking with her, smiles at them.

Somewhere behind them Louis hears, “Oh my god, he didn't finger Harri, he fingered _Harry_.” And he and Harry both laugh. Even though he hadn't, not then anyway.

They finally make it out of the school without much more commotion, and the air outside is brisk.

“S'gonna get too cold soon.” Harry says sadly, looking around at the colorful, but sort of droopy, mid-October leaves.

“That's what sweaters and cuddling are for.” Louis replies, squeezing Harry's hand.

“Are we gonna cuddle when it gets cold, then?” Harry asks, grinning.

“Curly, I'd cuddle you in the middle of the jungle.” Louis replies, smiling, and he just feels so _fond_ for this boy, like it's pouring out of his skin.

“I'd cuddle you in the middle of the Sahara. I'd get my back all sunburnt to keep you in the shade.” Harry counters, and then their naming all the unlikely placed they'd cuddle each other, and the extent. On a spaceship about to crash into the sun. Those really terribly hot July days, but right on the equator with no air conditioning. In the middle of a burning building. A solar flare. Being struck by lightning.

It's as close to 'I love you' as they've gotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been meaning to tell u guys for quite some time now but i have a tag on my blog for this fic (all my fics actually) but if you go to youremylad.tumblr.com/tagged/take+a+hit you'll see posts ive reblogged that remind me of this!!!  
> also, if you happened to want to post anything on tumblr related to this fic (idk like fanart or something idk why you'd need this tbh) i track the tag 'take a hit fic' just to let you know!!!!  
> you're all lovely as always!!!  
> see you next monday!!!!!  
> ((((also if you haven't already please check out my other works!! they're monumentally better than this tbh))))


	27. Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is smut, my apology for being so long  
> also because i need to practice my smut bc its shit

 

  
  


They're most of the way to Louis' house when Harry says it, “So I told my mom, you know, about us slash me when I was down in guidance.”

“You did? What did she say?” _Is that an appropriate thing to ask?_ Louis wonders.

“Well, she was a bit disappointed,” Louis sucks in a huge breath, ready to cuss her out even though she isn't there, but then Harry continues, “that you weren't just a friend. She was really excited for 'normal sleepovers'.” He uses hand quotes around the last phrase. Louis laughs, “Really? She wasn't like, sad or anything?”

“No, not at all. I was lucky. All she said was that she wishes she had some warning so she could read up on how to have the sex talk with her Louis-sexual son, and that there probably wasn't a website for parents of Louis-sexuals.”

“Louis-sexuals?” Louis questions, giggling.

“Well, see, the problem is I don't really know if I'm gay or bi or anything else or not. I just really like _you_. Therefore I am Louis-sexual.” Harry grins and runs a hand through his hair, which he'd styled in a sort of quiff/poof thing for the day. Louis grins back.

“Well I guess that makes me Harry-sexual.” He says, and Harry's grin widens, something Louis thought was impossible, before he leans down to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

Louis, however, decides a small kiss on the cheek is thoroughly unsatisfying and that there needs to be some lips to lips action. So when Harry pulls back Louis follows him, just below attacking his mouth with his own. They stop walking, horrible multitaskers they are, and stand on the sidewalk kissing.

“You're mom's not home, right?” Harry mumbles against Louis' lips. Louis murmurs a negative.

“Good, I wanna try something new.”

  
  


Thirty minutes later, they got to Louis' house and in his room (Lottie pointedly put her noise canceling headphones on), and Louis is on his bed naked, thoroughly hard at Harry's hand and water droplets resting on his tan skin from the shower Harry'd insisted they take together.

“So what is it that you wanted to try?” He asks, slightly breathless. Harry's hand jobs are a thing of beauty, and now he's just left here hard and wanting.

“Um, well, like,” Harry blushes, “you know how like I always do the, um, butt stuff?”

Louis wants to giggle, but he's having difficulty focusing.

“Yeah, I do.” He does manage to grin at Harry cheekily.

“And like, I love it, I do,” oh Louis knows how much he loves it. Fucking Australia knows how much he loves it. A couple days ago Louis had three fingers in him as deep as they'd go and Harry was screaming to the Himalayas, and came untouched all over his bed. Thankfully his mom and Gemma were out grocery shopping, and Harry then taught Louis how to do laundry and put sheets on a bed. An art he never has, and never will, master. “but I wanted to try something on you? And like if you don't like it you can just like tell me, obviously.” Harry looks so nervous, and Louis is hopelessly fond of the blush in his cheeks.

“Hey, babe, you don't have to like, be embarrassed, chances are I'm up for it. I'm up for a lot of things. I'm up right now, in case you'd forgotten.” Louis says, starting off supportive and ending cheekily.

“How could I forget? It's all I can think about.” Harry says.

“So what is it then?”

There's a pause, “Could I just, like show you? I don't- I'm embarrassed. I don't know. I've seen it in a lot of porn so I think it's a normal thing but- yeah.”

To save his boy from even more agony, Louis sits up and just kisses him. Harry wastes no time in licking into his mouth and laying him back down, descending with him so he's on top. Soon, he's trailing kisses down Louis' body, stopping to lap at his nipples until Louis lets out a small whimper and arches his back. Eventually his lips meet his cock.

“Harry, babe, blow jobs aren't new. That started in ninth grade.” Louis gasps out as Harry takes him down in one swift movement. Harry just rolls his eyes at him, even though they've already begun to water. Both of them have really gotten quite fluent in the art of blow jobs, but Harry is something else. His lips were probably sculpted by angels for the exact purpose of sucking cock. Well. Maybe not angels. But that doesn't matter, what does matter is the way Harry flicks his tongue over the sensitive slit, lapping at the precome that had dribbled there. He takes him back down again, nose nearly touching his skin. Louis feels like his nerves are on fire with every bob of Harry's head, and when somehow Harry dimple's pop into the sides of his cheeks whilst his mouth is full of Louis' cock, Louis really thinks he might just come then.

“Not gonna last long.” Louis gasps out, trying his hardest not to buck up into Harry's mouth, although when that had happened Harry had made it clear he'd enjoyed it, coming nearly at the same time Louis did into his palm. There's a smug glint in Harry's eye, but he seems to take Louis' advice to heart because he pulls off with a wet 'pop' and Louis is left gasping and leaking onto his stomach.

“Can you roll over please?” Harry asks timidly, voice slightly rough. Louis obliges, rolling over onto his stomach. Harry pulls his cheeks apart, which is to be expected with butt stuff, and Louis feels awkwardly exposed and bare. But then, Louis wonders, if his hands are occupied what is it that he's- _oh_. He feels Harry lick a flat stripe over his rim. Louis really did not see that coming. And the thing is, he doesn't know if it feels good? Like, is it supposed to? Yeah, probably, it is, but he didn't get much of anything. But then Harry does it again, and again, and again in different motions and different positioning of his tongue and _yes_ , it most _definitely_ feels good. He whimpers when Harry pulls away.

“Okay?” He asks. Louis musters a whimper in response and pushes his ass up, begging for Harry's tongue to come back. Harry obliges, repositioning his hands and hardening his tongue to push it into Louis' hole. Louis let's out a small _'ah'_ and arches his back more, so his ass is up higher. Harry keeps fucking into him with his tongue, and Louis' conscious thoughts are all but lost. The only ones remaining consist of expletives and exclamations, as well as articulate adjectives like 'fucking amazing' and 'holy fucking'. What's coming out of his mouth is equally as garbled as his brain, if not even less coherent. Moans and whimpers are dropping from his mouth incessantly. He really hopes Lottie's headphones work, because he might just shout when he comes.

The sounds coming from this, wet smacks from Harry's lips and a slurping noise Louis never thought would turn him on so much and other indescribable wet sounds and little moans from Harry, are heaven in themselves. Louis' torn between pushing himself back and closer to Harry's tongue and rutting into the sheets for some friction on his leaking cock. It feels like he's on fire where the sheets touch his dick. He needs something, anything, to push him over the edge.

“Harry, I'm so close.” He gasps out, fingers clawing into the pillow above his head. Harry drives his tongue as deep as he can, and all Louis wants is to be _fuller_. Harry gets this somehow and Louis feels him position a wet finger at his entrance. His rim clenches around nothing, upset at the loss of Harry's tongue.

Harry pauses for too long (Louis is admittedly impatient, but in these circumstances he is far more likely to not wait longer than five seconds) and Louis begs, “Harry _please_.” His voice comes out broken and desperate, and he can still feel his hole fluttering, his body physically begging. “Need your fingers 'n' tongue in me, _please. N_ eed it so so so _bad_.” He whines, maybe over dramatizing it a bit, but actually, probably not. If his mother or sister were to walk in right now and completely kill the mood, Louis thinks he'd actually make Harry continue after they left. He needs this so _bad_.

“Jesus, Lou.” Harry gasps out, and then pushes his finger in. A keening whine snakes from Louis' throat, and he bites into his fist to keep from being any louder. He lets him adjust for a moment, not that he needs it much because of the amount Harry worked him with his tongue, before he starts pumping his finger slowly. Far too slowly.

“More.” Louis whines, like a petulant child, but children are not to be brought up in these instances. He gasps when he feels Harry lick around his slightly stretched and puffy rim, finger still buried in the tight heat.

“Two. Can do two now, promise.” Louis might be begging. Tears might be leaking from his eyes out of frustration. His cock might be blurting precome like a fucking fire hose. He might be desperately clenching around Harry's finger. He might need more like his whole life depends on it.

“Let me get some lube for that, babe.” Harry says, and Louis let's out a long whine of frustration, something that might have been a wail had he not bitten down on his fist. Harry slowly draws out, despite Louis' desperate and sporadic clenching to keep him in. He's pathetic and very close to coming, cut him some slack.

Harry stands up and makes his way to where Louis hides his lube in his underwear drawer. Normally Louis is quite fond of Harry's slowness, finds it endearing and lovely. But not right now. This is not the time to be endeared, and Louis is so fucking desperate, he's letting out little hiccuping moans and rutting into his sheets. And, fuck it, Harry's taking too long to find it, so he sucks on two of his own fingers til they're thoroughly wet and pushes one in, the second soon after. He curls them up, to where Harry had been avoiding hitting his prostate dead on, knowing he'd come, and-

 _His fucking fingers are too short_.

Harry finally makes his way back to the bed where Louis is now fucking himself back onto his pathetically useless god damn fingers that can't even reach his fucking god damn shitting prostate he's going to fucking _cry_ and well, he's actually already crying from the sheer frustration and desperation to come.

“Harry, _please_!” He cries, and he knows no matter what headphones Lottie is using, she heard, but he can't find it in himself to care. Harry wraps his fingers around Louis' wrist, telling him to slide his fingers out. Louis obeys, begrudgingly, but knowing Harry's fingers will replace them makes it all worthwhile.

He's so fucking close, doesn't even hear the broken _'please'_ es falling from his lips at an alarming rate or feel the hot, frustrated tears on his cheeks. All he can feel his Harry slowly sliding two fingers into him, two much longer fingers, and his tongue lapping around them. All he can feel is his cock pulsing, flushed, dripping, needy under him. All he can feel is Harry's fingers crooking this way and that until- there. Right there. Louis must let out a shout as his body jolts and the pleasure shoots up his spine and down into his toes, because Harry is shushing him, the air propelled onto his hot skin. The added sensation is like over load, and _god,_ he's right there. He's going to come so hard so soon, and Harry keeps driving his fingers into the bundle of nerves and each time Louis let's out an ' _ah!_ ' and his cock is pulsing and hot and he feels his balls draw up closer to his body and then-

And then Harry stops.

Louis lets out a wordless keening whine, moving his bum back for more.

“Um, don't hate me, but I got a cramp in my wrist.” Harry says sheepishly.

“Oh. My. _God_.” Louis groans, burying his hot face into his sheets. He's sweaty and sticky with precome and his spit is still drying on his fingers and he was _right there_.

“I swear to fucking god Styles if you don't move again _right now_ I will-” Louis never gets to finish the thought, because apparently Harry has worked out whatever muscular issues his wrist was having and he's thrusting his fingers in and out at an even faster pace and licking around Louis' rim like he's getting paid to do it. It's only another minute before Louis is back at the point, where he can feel himself at the peak of the mountain, poised there and gaping in a silent scream, before one last thrust pushes him off and and he's falling, falling. Harry's name leaving his lips in loud cries, muffled only by his own reddened and bite-marked fist. Ropes of come decorate his stomach and the sheets below him, up even to his collar bones. Harry pushes him through it, fingers jabbing into his prostate and making his whole body spasm as he comes down, breathing hard and heavy and suddenly quite aware of how loud he was, even through the fuzzy and numb feeling of his ears.

Harry pulls his fingers out and even that small motion is so much to his post-orgasm sensitivity. The sheets rubbing against his cock feels like thorns, and thankfully Harry helps him turn over.

“So, was that okay?” Harry asks, looking nervous like he doesn't fucking know what he just did to Louis.

Louis can't even respond, just nods weakly and gasping for air, wishing for ice for his hot cheeks.

“So okay. The most okay anything has ever been. Fuck.” He finally manages. “I am very glad you're Louis-sexual.”

Only then does he tune in to what he can hear in the living room, which is Lottie talking on the phone, telling her friend about her brother and his boyfriend fucking disgustingly loudly and how she's going to puke in his dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry its been so long im a terrible person also im sorry im posting this so late at night and unbetaed i just finished it and i wanted to get it up for yall (heh get it up get it)  
> comment what you thought! i really need criticism on my smut its my weakest point so feel free to point out anything that wasn't the best!!  
> ilysm!!!  
> (also, 11k hits??? wow!!)  
> (also also, please check out my other works!! they're monumentally better than this fic)


	28. Twenty-eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry, this is not the final chapter you all deserve, I just cant bring myself to write this story anymore, here's all the scene's I had planned on writing.  
> Also, for some fill-in: eventually the football team gets over Harry and Louis being gay (Jace is still an asshole but less of a vocal one) the football team excels and goes on to the championships while rehearsals for the play start in full swing.  
> Soon Harry and Louis have their first time, a weekend they have free and Harry's mum and Gemma go for a girls' weekend in the city. Louis spreads Harry out and opens him up and makes sure Harry comes first, around him, and then they cuddle and then do it again the next day.  
> With some help from Zayn and Perrie and Liam and Harry and his family he starts to get all A's in his new, harder classes.  
> Also Zayn and Perrie decide to take a break, Zayn dates Liam and Perrie dates Jesy. (because why not, eh?)  
> Also, because this is an AU pretend the football season goes all the way through the school year.

Louis' not paying all that much attention to the game. Like, he probably should be, considering it's the fucking championships, like the super bowl but for high school, but the play is tomorrow and he has to be practicing his lines. So he's running through them in his head all whilst watching Harry zig zag across the field absentmindedly. Their kicker is the kid who sat behind him in English the first half of the year, when he wasn't taking senior English classes and he's about to go for a field goal when something happens.

  
His leg just fucking lands wrong and there's a crack and there's blood and bone and the audience is in chaos and all Louis can think is _fuck, I have to kick for him now_.

  
Not only that, but there's five seconds left in the game and it's a tied score. If he misses this, they'll probably lose.

  
“Tomlinson, oh fuck, Tomlinson you're up.” The coach says resignedly, watching the kicker be carried away on a stretcher.

  
Louis looks at him wide eyed and shakes his head, “We'll lose.”

  
“I know, but we don't have another choice. Put your helmet on, kid.” Coach says. Louis does as he's told, fingers beginning to tremble with the strap. Finally he secures it properly and jogs out onto the field. Harry meets him halfway there.

  
“Harry, fuck, I'm gonna lose this for you, for the team, for everyone, I can't fucking kick that all that way that's not even human I-”

  
Harry cuts off his rambling, cupping what he can of Louis' chin in his hands and pressing his helmet to Louis'. It's a strange view, seeing Harry's sweaty face through two helmets.

  
“Hey, Lou, it's gonna be alright.” He says.

  
“But how do you know?” Louis asks, nearly wailing with desperation.

  
“Because I love you.” Harry says solemnly. Louis' heart screeches to a halt in his chest. He fish mouths, tries to find his voicebox to fucking say it back, but Coach cuts him off.

  
“Tomlinson! Styles! Positions, now!”

  
Somehow Louis finds himself at the starting position, staring at the ball. It's not even a fucking ball. It looks like an egg. What the fuck kind of game is this? Who can fucking kick that?

  
But none of that matters, not really. Louis' heart beat has been replaced with Harry's calm “I love you.” It's all he knows, really, He knows that the sky is blue, football should be called handegg, and he knows that Harry Styles is in love with him. Harry loves him, and he loves Harry, and that's all that will ever matter. And everything will be alright.

  
He runs forward, kicks the ball, and watches it fly.

 

 

He kind of blacks out, only mentally, not physically, and when he comes to he's on Harry's shoulders and the whole team has crowded around him. He glances over at the score board and sees their team's score is three points higher. He breaks into a huge grin and his heart starts beating again, the cheers register with his ears, his fingers fumble to take off his helmet and then throw it somewhere out of harms way. He's still perched on Harry's shoulders and there's hands patting his back all over and shouting congratulations, but all Louis wants is to get his mouth on Harry's. He reaches for the buckle of Harry's helmet and undoes it quickly, and as soon as it's off of him he bends down and presses his lips to Harry's. Upside down kisses are surprisingly more difficult than Louis thought, but it's still perfect.

  
When he pulls away, heart feeling like it's going to burst, he whispers, “I love you too.”

  
Harry just grins and then shouts over the cheers, “What?”

  
“I love you too!” Louis yells, and the cheers just get louder.

 

 

“Louis, there's some bad news, Jade is sick and can't make it to the play.” Mrs. Clark says, clutching her clip board with white knuckles.

  
“Okay, but Leigh-Anne knows the lines, right? She's the understudy.”

  
Mrs. Clark shakes her head sadly, “I've just been informed she's puking in the bathroom and has a 102 degree fever.”

  
“Then who's gonna play Sandy?” He asks, heart pounding.

  
“That's what we're trying to figure out. For now, we're skipping the opening beach scene. Just go straight into getting to school and seeing the T-Birds, got it?” She instructs. Louis nods.

  
“Places everyone!” She shouts, scurrying away from him, “Remember, scene 2!”

  
Louis makes it through the scene alright, he never forgets his lines and he makes sure to touch his hair enough times. Niall makes a good Sonny, and the audience laughs at all the right places. Then he leaves the stage for Sandy's arrival at Rydell High. He can't hear who's playing Sandy, but he can hear the audience roaring with laughter, and he wonders what happened. Maybe someone fell or adlibbed something good. That scene goes pretty quick and then after that is Summer Nights, for which they split the stage so that the girls and boys can duet properly. Louis takes his place on the stage and stage talks with Niall and Zayn, both of whom can't stop giggling.

  
He can't see the girls but he's desperate to find out who's playing Sandy.

  
“So what'd you do this summer, Sandy?” Louis hears Frenchie ask.

  
The voice that comes sends a shock down Louis' spine and he nearly breaks character. Niall is looking at him with bright eyes and he's trying to discreetly clutch his sides, which are hurting from the effort it takes not to laugh.

  
He realizes just how absolutely doomed he is when Sandy starts singing. Then their choreography dictates that Louis turn around, and yeah. There's Sandy- nearly six foot tall, hairy legged, quarterback of the football team, Harry Styles. He's singing his lines with such gusto, following the choreography perfectly and swishing his pink dress about his thighs. It's actually supposed to be below the knee, but obviously that wasn't possible with him. He's even got boobs. It's just a bra, Louis can tell, stuffed with toilet paper.

  
Louis wants to die, he's just so in love with his absolute goofball of a boyfriend.

  
The play goes smoothly, and all the kissing scenes are far more natural for Louis than they had been with Jade. Not that Jade wasn't a nice girl, they'd become good friends over the course of rehearsals, but she was no Harry.

  
They hold hands when they take their bows, and Harry squeezes Louis' hands so tightly he thinks he might burst in the best possible way.

 

 

Louis watches his graduation cap fly above him and laces his fingers into Harry's. Harry kisses him as they fall back down around them, and Louis thinks back all the way to freshman year. How confused he was, how angry he was, how sad he was. It seems like a whole different person compared to who he is now. He knows exactly who he is, he's happy, and he's in love. His future is big and bright ahead of him, and Harry will stay with him the rest of the way. At this point, he'll take whatever life swings his way. He can take a hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it had to end like this, I was just not enjoying writing this anymore and i didnt want to force something i wasnt enjoying. (Also I want to apologize for that cheesy last line, bc wtf?)  
> ummmmm so yeah!! after a few days im gonna orphan this work, it'll still be available to read it just wont have my user tacked onto it  
> come yell at me on my [ tumblr ](http://spankingkink.tumblr.com) or my twitter @sophiekink_  
> if you stuck with this fic all this way I really just want to thank you, you're amazing. And this isn't the end you deserve, I'm sorry.  
> please read the rest of my works!! they're monumentally better written than this and im much more proud of them

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanted to know:  
> my tumblr is spankingkink.tumblr.com  
> my twitter is @sophiekink_
> 
> you're really cool.


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